


Our Way

by shpeeper



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Arson, Drinking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, M/M, Slow Burn, Swearing, Violence, implied heavymedic ?, nothing too detailed tho, scout is spys son, scout is young, scouts mom dies and its sad im sorry, tags will be added as needed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-22
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2018-11-03 13:40:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 40,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10968381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shpeeper/pseuds/shpeeper
Summary: Overall the mission was pretty simple.  Sniper was instructed to track the spy for a week, figure out his daily patterns, then put a bullet in his brain when no one is around.No one told him there would be a kid.An AU in which Spy raises Scout alone, and Sniper is hired to kill Spy.





	1. Chapter 1

 

Spy didn’t ask to be a father. At no point in Spy’s life did he ever think he would want to be a father, or that he'd be a good one at that.  But if he was being truly honest, this wasn’t the first time Spy had no control over his future.

 

He had fallen for her in the spring, among all the flowers and sunlight she seemed to shine the brightest. Spy remembers her laugh more than anything, it was confident, and loud, and adventurous, and it was everything Spy thought he could ever want in an action so simple. When he approaches her, he’s suave and charming with the sweetest words to sweep her off her feet, and she calls him out immediately on his romantic bullshit-- and he  _ loves _ it.

 

He remembers she quite liked his laugh as well. She had called it silly, and even though it had made him embarrassed at the time, he found that her face would light up even more when he would laugh his hardest, and it made it more than worth it. She was bright and beautiful, and Spy had willingly left everything behind for her.

 

She already had seven rowdy boys whose names Spy had trouble remembering at times, but got along with well enough. One of the younger boys had looked at him in the eyes one night asking if he would leave like the rest of their fathers. Spy had promised the boy that he would stay by their mother's side as long as she would want him to be there too.

 

Spy had been there was Jeremy was born. He remembers panicking when she had told him about the pregnancy months earlier, but he finally finds solace when he holds his son for the first time. He was on the smaller side as newborns go, and he had his mother’s rounder features. Spy had his doubts, but looking down at their son he thinks maybe he can do this as long as she was right there beside him.

 

But life doesn’t usually work out like that. She falls ill, and when Jeremy is only six months old Spy holds her hand in the hospital as she starts to pass away. All of her boys are there too, Spy tries to stay strong for them, but he doesn’t feel very strong at all right now. In her last moments, she tells each and every one of her boys how much she loves them, and then turns to Spy and uses his fake name to tell him how much she loved him too, and it stings. He was never able to give her his real name, and he hates it. He hates everything. He holds her cold hand and cries along with her eight other children that just lost their mother. 

 

Some of the boys fathers turn up to take custody of them, others don’t. The two eldest boys end up getting a small apartment to take care of the rest of their brothers, but Spy knows they can’t take care of a baby. They already have so much on their plates, and they all are still so young themselves. He ends up taking Jeremy and makes sure to send money for the other boys and helps when he can, but it's hard. This isn’t exactly what he had in mind when he had dreamily talked of the future with her over the many dinners they had shared together.

 

He feels selfish, he feels gross, and most of all he feels guilty. It's a hard first few months, and everything reminds him of her. As much as he hates to admit it, he doesn’t love his son. He feels horribly guilty, of course he should love his son, but Jeremy cries and doesn’t him sleep, doesn’t let him grieve for a moment. Of course there are moments of happiness, like when Jeremy finally starts to learn how to walk, but most of the time Spy is frustrated and tired. He tries to be the best father he can be, but without her, he can’t help but feel like he already failed.

 

With time, it gets slowly better.  Spy still has troubles during the spring, when he remembers the days they used to walk together in the park amongst the newly bloomed blossoms. Later, he makes new memories there with his five year old as they play catch in the sun. He grows up with a lot of his mother mannerisms without realising it. Jeremy is loud, and confident, and his smile looks just hers when he laughs. Its bittersweet, but Spy finds himself laughing alongside what's left of her and it feels like that first spring all over again.

 

He starts to see Jeremy for who he is, and by god does he love his son. Those long nights where he would doubt being fit for a father all seem so silly now that things are better.  He holds his son in a tight embrace wishing him good luck at school on his first day of the second grade. He’s scared for Jeremy, but he knows he’ll be alright, if he’s anything like his parents he’ll be more than alright in fact.

 

Jeremy gets a lot from his mother, but Spy starts to see himself in his son as well. Despite having a hard time in his academics, he’s deceptively clever and good with his words. Some things are uniquely Jeremy, in fact he's one hell of a talker, Spy doesn’t think he’s ever stopped talking since he put a coherent sentence together.

 

One day when Jeremy asks him what he does for work, he lies. When Jeremy’s mother died, he picked up small tasks with his old job, but not with the same boss.  He’s good at what he does, but he would rather not be a spy anymore.  He’s proud of the fact they’ve only had to move about three times now, he makes sure to keep a low profile for him and his son so for the future maybe he really can retire. 

 

But again, life doesn’t usually work out like that. His old boss is pissed Spy just up and left for some domesticated daydream, and even more pissed he didn’t come back after. He knows too much, and they know  _ he _ knows it. So they send a hitman to finish the job.

 

He goes by Sniper, but his name is Micky Mundy. A long, lanky man hardened from the Australian outback, but a professional through and through. He spent years in the outback as an animal tracker, and can shoot a rifle better than any other man they got.  They’ve already sent three other hitmen after Spy in the past, and all three lost their trail on him, and soon after lost their lives. But the boss has a good feeling about this one, Sniper knows how to get a job done, he doesn’t hesitate to take the shot, and he could track Spy across the world if he needed to. 

 

Fortunately for him, Sniper doesn’t need to. The agency had already tracked Spy down to small town in Ohio, they just need Sniper to follow him for a time and get his daily route, then take him out with the least amount of eye witnesses as possible. He’s already been collecting data for the past few days, and today’s the first day Sniper spends his afternoon at the corner of a small park waiting for Spy after he gets a tip from an oblivious store owner stationed across the street.

 

Sniper tips his hat over his face as he sits on the park bench waiting for the French bastard to walk by, he’s not taking him out today, but he might be able to follow him home if he’s careful. Killing him in his own house quietly is ideal, from what the boss told him, the man lives alone so it could be weeks before anyone finds the body. 

 

The moment he notices that there are an awful lot of people around this one corner is when a bright yellow school bus rolls up and opens its doors. Elementary school children exit from the bus noisily and run to their respective parents, while others mingle around in the park till theirs arrive.

 

Sniper notices out of the corner of his eyes the small boy being pushed on the ground by three other boys, and they start to dump out all the contents of his backpack. The small boy on the ground, who looks at least two years younger than the rest, voice cracks when he yells at them, “Hey that's not yours! Give it back!”

 

The biggest of the bunch holds a baseball in hands and sneers at the smaller boy, “And just what are you gonna do about it bucktooth?” 

 

“That’s my brothers’! I said give it back!” He practically wails. Sniper can hear the tears in his voice.

 

Despite being paid to kill men for money, Sniper isn’t exactly heartless. Truthfully, he loves children and he remembers just how much he was bullied as a kid himself. Kids are cruel, and in that moment Sniper sees himself in the little boy on the ground. He remembers being weaker than the other kids when he was growing up, and just how bitter it had made him. Looking around, it seems like most the parents in the park are either leaving with their own children or just don’t care enough to do anything. Typical. 

 

Sniper curses under his breath as he raises from his bench and walks over towards the young boys in long strides. As he approaches, one of the big kid’s friends notices Sniper heading towards them with a large scowl on his face and he nervously tries to get the big kid’s attention, but it's too late. Sniper stands right behind the smaller kid on the ground, looking down at the other kids intimidatingly. Sniper thinks maybe if he spooks them a bit, they’ll leave their classmate alone for a time.

 

“What’s going on over here?” Is all Sniper asks, his accent and gravely voice very apparent. 

 

The three other boys look at him stumbling over their words, they’ve been caught, and what’s worse, this very scary man was the one that caught them.  They stay silent and frozen, including the smallest kid at his feet.

 

“Now don’t go on and piss yourself kiddos, I’m just here to tell ya’ it ain’t very  _ polite _ to go throwing people's stuff around like that.” 

 

“Sorry sir.” One boy manages to squeak out after a small silence. 

 

“Don’t apologize to me.” Sniper starts and points down to the kid below him, “Apologize to him.”

 

The kids look to Jeremy and each mumble out their apologies one by one, clearly embarrassed. Sniper seems satisfied by their meek apologies and shoos them away, “Run along now then.” 

 

The boys turn tail and run from the intimidating man, leaving him all alone with the smaller boy. Jeremy picks himself off the ground and wipes at his eyes with his sleeve and sniffles. He throws up a fist in the air at the other boys running away, “That's right ya’ dorks! Go ahead and run!” 

 

Sniper puts his hands on his hips and laughs lightly at the small child in front of him placing his belongings back into backpack still sniffling loudly. “Need help?” he asks. 

 

Jeremy shakes his head silently and then picks up his baseball to inspect it. Finding it to not to have any scuff marks, he places it back into his backpack gently. He looks to Sniper and Jeremy knows he isn’t supposed to talk to strangers, his dad has been  _ very _ strict on this rule, but he slowly puts out his hand to shake, “Thanks…” 

 

Sniper smiles and shakes the boy's hand, “The name is Micky.” 

 

“Jeremy.” 

 

“Well Jeremy,” Sniper starts, covering his eyes from the sun,  “Where’s ya’ parents kiddo?” 

 

Jeremy stays silent for a moment, again he hears his father’s voice in his head telling him to absolutely stay away from all strangers, but he figures that this man seems nice enough. “My dad will be here, sometimes he runs late at work is all.” 

“Ah.” Sniper responds, “Then I’ll leave ya’ to it then.” He starts to walk away from the boy, but he stops and turns around, “And from me to you kiddo, just a bit of advice: If you know ya’ can’t beat them, run away. Ain’t no shame in running away to fight another day.” 

 

Scout looks to him slightly angry, “They had my baseball, I can’t just run.”

 

“I guess that's true.” Sniper reasons, “But do you think you would’ve gotten it back if I wasn’t there?” 

 

“But you were there.” He sniffles.

 

“That’s also true.” Sniper thinks a moment, “All I’m saying is, that ball ain’t worth whatever it is they wanted to do to ya’ kid.” 

 

Jeremy thinks this over, his hands on the straps of his backpack solemnly.  _ I could’ve taken them, _ he thinks bitterly, but he knows deep down he couldn’t have. He knows that he’s scrawny and small and those boys would’ve beaten the snot out of him if Micky hadn’t been there.  He watches the tall man walk over to the bench off to his right and sit down, tipping his hat over his face. 

 

The next thing Sniper knows, he hears the sounds of small footsteps up to his bench. He raises his hat up slightly to find Jeremy climbing up on the bench to sit next to him. Jeremy gets comfortable and starts inspecting the items in his backpack again, “Is it ok if I sit here Mr. Micky?” 

 

Sniper laughs lightly, “Fine by me.” 

 

Sniper likes the kid’s attitude, but decides to stay silent. He doesn’t want to be considered some freak preying on kids; that causes attention, and the least amount of people being able to recognize him the better.  So he stay silent for a moment looking around for his target.  From his data, Sniper’s found the spy is going by the name Davet, but he knows that this could change at any moment. Nothing is permanent to a spy, and he would rather just kill him here than track him all over again under a different name. 

 

Jeremy breaks the silence, “Do you watch any baseball Mr. Micky?” 

 

“Nah, not really.” He answers honestly. 

 

“I don’t either.” Jeremy says with his baseball back in his hand, “But my brothers in Boston do. I dunno the rules.” 

 

Sniper looks to him and smiles, “Sorry kid, me neither.” 

 

Jeremy mulls this over before thinking of another question, “Are you waiting for someone?” 

 

Sniper doesn’t answer right away, staying silent for a few seconds, “I guess so.”

 

“Who are ya waiting for?”

 

Sniper turns back from looking for the spy to Jeremy’s curious face; he doesn’t look any older than six or seven. Where the hell are his parents anyway? What kind of parents leave an elementary school child all alone in a park? Sniper is a hitman, but imagine if he was a kidnapper? This kid would be as good as gone. Sniper decides that if he does see this kid’s dad, he was going to give him a piece of his mind. 

 

He decides to be vague with his answer, “Just waiting for a friend.” 

 

Before Jeremy can ask about this friend of Sniper’s, he sees his dad jogging up behind Sniper, and he immediately perks up and shoves himself off the bench to run to his father. Spy bends down to hug his son as he he meets him halfway, and he’s clearly out of breath from running.

 

Spy hugs his son even tighter, “I’m so sorry Jeremy, work ran late and I couldn’t get in touch with anyone to come here. I didn’t mean to leave you here so long.” 

 

Jeremy smiles at his father, “It’s ok! I was just hanging out with Mr. Micky!

 

Spy keeps his expression of exhausted happiness on his face, but his voice gives away just how not ok he is with this development. “Who’s Mr. Micky?” He asks, masking his concern. 

 

Jeremy points to Sniper who's still at sitting at the bench with the gears in his head turning. That’s his target, that's the spy. Sniper has seen a multitude of pictures of this man, along with a few times he’s seen him in public, and there isn’t a doubt in his mind that it’s him. 

 

Something doesn’t quite click, the boss never said he had a son.  _ Maybe it's a trick, _ he thinks,  _ my cover is already blown and this guy got some kid to mess with my head.  _ Sniper somehow knows in the back of his mind that this isn’t the case and he doesn’t think the kid was lying or putting on an act, it was all too real. But now he’s trapped, he can’t run, and the spy has already seen his face, so he tries to play it cool. 

 

Spy walks to the man calmly with a clear expression of slight distaste as Jeremy hops beside him holding his hand, “He said he doesn’t like Baseball,” Jeremy starts, “But that’s ok, I think he’s pretty cool anyways.” 

 

“Hm yes.” Spy says lowly, “Very cool.” 

 

Spy reaches Sniper who's now happily sitting on the bench, now trying to play dumb. He knows this man is dangerous and very intelligent, blowing his cover means death. “You got quite the kid there.” He says in the friendliest voice he can muster, “Some other boys were messing with him, so I just scared them off is all. No big deal.” 

 

“Yeah!” Jeremy pulls his father’s attention back to him shaking his hand, “You shoulda' seen him! He made them all say sorry and run away and stuff!” 

 

“I’ll have to thank you then.” Spy says as his eyes make daggers at Sniper, but his keeping expression the same, “I did not know my work would take so long.” 

 

“No worries, mate.” Sniper brushes it off trying to end the conversation quickly. 

 

Spy leans down to his son, “Say goodbye to the nice man, and let’s head for dinner, hm?” 

 

“Ok!” Jeremy says excitedly and waves at the man, “Bye Mr. Micky!” 

 

Sniper doesn’t say anything, but he waves back. Spy makes sure to stare the man down one last time before leaving, the warning to stay away very clear. He watches them disappear from the corner of his eyes and takes some deep breathes trying to slow his heartbeat. He’s a goddamn sniper, if he wanted to be in the field talking to his targets he’d be a bloody spy. Sniper would much rather never met his targets and shoot them through the head from a rooftop two hundred yards away.

 

On top of all that, the spy has a son. A son he’s now met. He knows this kids personally, about his love of baseball, even his name and this is a huge problem. Sniper does what he’s told, he’s professional and efficient at killing men that deserve to die. These men are usually alone with no one that loves them. He occasionally runs into a lover or two, but in most cases they end up being a target as well. Sniper never signed up for this job to take fathers away from children. 

 

Sniper had told the boss on the first day, no animals and no kids. These are his only conditions, and up to this point they had respected his wishes. He leans his head back and sighs. What the  _ hell _ is he supposed to do?  He knows that if he goes back to the boss, she’ll have his head. No one exactly quits this kind of job, that's the whole reason he’s after this spy in the first place.

 

And then it hits Sniper that the spy must have left the agency because of his son, and then he feels an incredible amount of guilt. He rubs his face sighing loudly, maybe he can follow them for a time to see if this kid has someone else,  _ anybody  _ else.  Maybe then he won’t feel as awful when he has to kill his father he reasons with himself, but Sniper knows this isn’t true. He’ll have to call the boss tonight for sure.

 

Sniper lifts his body from the park bench feeling much heavier than usual, and something catches his eye.  _ The kid left his goddamn baseball. _ In spite of it all, Sniper manages to laugh lightly at the ball, and picks it up to inspect it.  The poor kid was about to get the beating of his tiny elementary school life over this thing, and he had just left it behind. Sniper holds the baseball in his hand tossing it lightly. There was no way he could just hand the kid his ball back, but he figures it’d be great cover if he ever got found out or got into a pinch with the spy.  

 

Baseball in hand, Sniper heads back to his camper van located on the other side of the park.  It’s a Tuesday, so Jeremy and his father will assumably be here tomorrow afternoon as well, but he knows the spy is smarter than that. If there's anything good to come from this horrible situation, it’s the fact that Sniper’s seen the spy up close, and he knows there’s only one shop in the immediate area that sells the kind of vest he was wearing. From past experiences, he knows that if you dress scary enough and show enough fake badges and warrants confidently, people will give you just about anything.

 

Sniper decides to call the boss that night, but in the meantime, he’ll head to the suit shop.

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spy and Sniper meet again, but as it turns out he's not the only one hunting down the spy.

After dinner, Spy takes them into town to get their hair cut. Jeremy’s hair was getting on the shaggier side anyway, and the run in with “Mr. Micky” has Spy a little more than freaked out. Spy’s mind tries to convince him it was probably just some weirdo in the park, but his intuition that he’s trained over the years tells him differently, and he’d rather be safe than sorry.

 

Jeremy of course, has a blast. Eating out for dinner  _ and _ a cool new haircut? Needless to say he’s a burning ball of energy, babbling on nonstop about whatever comes to mind until they get home.

 

“Jeremy, do you like school?”

 

The question comes from the kitchen where Spy is cleaning dishes before placing them in the dishwasher. Jeremy lifts his head up from behind the couch where he was playing, action figures in hand, “It’s ok, I guess.”

 

Spy smiles at his son, “Would you rather have school at home?”

 

Jeremy nearly throws his toys in his excitement, “Wait, you can do that?!”

 

His father laughs, “Of course I can do that! I can do anything, can’t I?”

 

“I know  _ that _ !” Jeremy yells back.  He thinks over the offer for a moment, it’s not like he had very many friends at school yet. All Jeremy had really accomplished so far at school was make enemies and prove to the teachers that he probably needed an extra after-school reading comprehension class. “But who would the teacher be?” He asks while tentatively walking into the kitchen.

 

“Well, I would be your teacher.” Spy responds, looking down at Jeremy, “I would just do  everything your teachers normally would teach you at school, but it would all be at home.” 

 

“Wow.” 

 

Spy laughs, “Yeah, wow.” 

 

“So we could hang out all day?!” Jeremy says excitedly.

 

“It would still be school,” Spy points out, putting another dish into the dishwasher noisily, “so less  _ hanging out _ and more learning, but yes. But only if you’d like that.”

 

Jeremy picks up the dish his father just put in the dishwasher to inspect it, and finding it clean, puts it back down and nods his head confidently, “I think I can handle it.” 

 

_ Good _ . Spy makes a mental note to get all that paperwork sorted out tomorrow. In all honesty, Spy really wanted to let Jeremy stay in public school. If there’s anything he’s consistently tried to keep, its some kind of normalcy in Jeremy’s life, which has been no easy task to say the least.

 

But something about this man at the park has Spy on high alert; maybe it’s that fact that Jeremy was so immediately trusting. Not to mention the failing on his own part for not being there to pick him up right from school, which has happened a multitude of times now. Although this would be a normal occurrence for any other kid, for Jeremy it has much more dangerous implications. The only reason Jeremy is able to go to the public school he’s in now in the first place is because Spy has a fellow associate watching over it.

 

Spy figures that homeschooling Jeremy will just be easier. It’s not ideal, but neither is anything else in this whole mess anyway. He’ll just have to teach Jeremy during the day, and take “night shifts” after he goes to bed. Spy also makes sure to remember to pick up a new front door lock for the next time he goes out, it’s been awhile.

 

Sniper on the other hand, has been busy. Heading to the suit shop with a photo of Spy in hand claiming he’s a murder suspect gets him a lot of answers. First off, it turns out Spy is just as smart as Sniper would have guessed and he paid for everything in cash. Second, the security cameras at the shop catch his license plate, and after some digging around he finds Spy’s address.

 

It’s a small apartment with the only windows being on the side of the old brick building by the fire escape. Outside stairs lead to all the apartments, including the second-story two bedroom that the spy is living in. Admittedly it’s a clever spot, there's nothing special or unique to the building, it’s decently secluded, and odds are it's a by-monthly rental. Sniper drives by just to look at the place, he’ll be back tomorrow evening.

 

So Sniper comes home to the run down motel the agency bought for him and beelines for the phone. He has to call the boss; he has to get this whole mess sorted out.  Sniper  _ wants _ to do his job, but god if he can avoid hurting the kid somehow he will.

 

And as it turns out, he can’t. The boss’s shrill voice shrieks at him over the phone for a solid forty-five minutes that he is in no way authorized to abandon this mission. She makes her point very clear when she spits out that if he won’t do it, someone else will, and odds are they won’t care about some kid being hurt in the process. She also very seriously mentions that she _ will _ kill Sniper if he doesn’t succeed or tries to run, and she’ll make sure Spy and his son are dead as well.

 

When Sniper hangs up the phone, he lifts his hand to his face and realizes his shaking.  _ Some bloody professional I am _ , he thinks bitterly as he lies down on the uncomfortably hard mattress. It’s a long night, and Sniper barely finds any rest. When he finally does find it, Sniper sees the little boy with buck teeth and a goofy smile between the crosshairs of his rifle, and it jolts him awake so much it makes him physically sick.

 

With rough nights come even rougher mornings. Sniper gives up trying to stay asleep around five in the morning, and instead ends up just watching bad cable television shows.  He can’t focus on anything that’s on the screen, he has only three days left to finish the mission. Sniper’s mind keeps going to the kid, even if he shoots the damn spy while he’s alone this kid is going to end up finding his father’s body with his head blown off, and he can’t imagine bringing himself to do something as horribly cruel as that.

 

He sighs deeply, maybe he’ll just run. Sniper can get a three day head start before they suspect anything, and even if things go south, it’s not like he has anyone mourning for him anyway. His mind keeps going back to the kid and it reminds him that he can’t just run, they’ll kill him if he does. Sniper raises out of bed and starts to get dressed for the day, he’ll just get this whole mess over with and go to their house and finish the mission today.  God he feels awful, it’ll be a while before he’ll be able to forget this mission, but he’s heard alcohol does wonders to one's memory.

 

During the day Sniper tries to convince himself that the mission is just a mission, and he has a job to do. He doesn’t end up convincing himself very well however, and he hopes with all his being that he won’t have to see the kid today; it’ll just make things harder. He plans to wait till sunset, and see if the spy leaves his apartment at all during the night. Sniper picks a rooftop that's a perfect view for the shot and he gets a horrible case of heartburn.

 

So he sets up, loads his rifle, and waits. Sniper is in his element up in his sniper nest, he’s able to distance himself both physically and mentally.  As he waits out the spy, doubts start to plague his mind. The spy still hasn’t come home yet, does he even have the right building? He’s staked out this apartment all day, it isn’t like they just slipped in without Sniper seeing them. Mixing up a common worn down brick building with another common worn down brick building isn’t very hard, even a professional could mess it up he tells himself. And Sniper pushes away the voice in his head that tells him that he’s doubting himself to avoid doing the mission when he packs up his rifle and heads down to the building to check just in case. 

 

He waits in the shadows of the setting sun in the alleyway by the apartment building for the spy to walk by.  Then he can be sure it’s the correct building and draw him out again or shoot him through his window. Then when Sniper looks towards the apartment, he sees that the windows have now been boarded up. Well there goes that idea.  _ Or better yet, _ Sniper thinks, _ I can just wait till tomorrow when I know I can get a better shot.  _ Unfortunately, he’s still not very good at convincing himself that this isn’t just to prolong the inevitable.  

 

“Hey! That’s Mr. Micky!” Sniper hears a very familiar voice yell.

 

His heart drops. Sniper turns to find the boy with the big goofy grin skipping over to him from across the street, and a pair of angry, gleaming eyes not far behind him that's unmistakably his father. 

 

Sniper can’t seem to react, how the hell did the kid spot him anyhow? He doesn’t have time to think, the kid walks straight up to him with his father not far behind. Sniper tries to put on an act, but in all honesty, he’s nervous, terrified even.  _ Well, considering how my day has gone, I suppose dying here wouldn’t be so bad _ , he thinks to himself bitterly.

 

“Hi Mr. Micky!”, Jeremy greets him happily when he reaches him, “It’s Jeremy, from the park ya’ know? I got a haircut, so it’s cool if ya’ didn’t notice me.” He smiles as he points to his head.

 

Sniper tries to smile, “Ah, I see. Ya’ look sharp.” 

 

“I saw you cause of ya’ funny hat!” He chirps out.

 

“Oh… thanks?” Sniper rubs his head,  _ of course _ he’d remember his stupid hat, he should’ve just left the damned thing in the van.

 

Spy finally makes his way over to Sniper and Jeremy, and this time, he doesn’t have a fake smile to give him. Jeremy can’t see Spy’s face right now so he gives Sniper a look that could give weaker men heart attacks. As soon as he gets close enough to Jeremy, his whole demeanor changes, and suddenly it’s like he didn’t just look like he was going to tear through Sniper’s throat with his teeth.

 

“So… What are you doing the neighborhood?” Spy asks with a smile that’s too perfect and too happy. 

 

“I, uh--” Sniper tries to think of something, _ anything,  _ that could get him out this situation. He nervously looks around for any kind of excuse and shoves his hands in his coat pockets.

 

_ The baseball. _

 

Sniper pulls Jeremy’s baseball from his coat, “The kid here left his ball at the park. Figured I’d just bring it back.” 

 

Jeremy grabs the ball from Snipers hands inspecting it for damages, “Oh sweet!” he beams, “Thanks!” 

 

Spy then speaks up, “That was very nice of you,  _ Mr. Micky. _ You didn’t have to do that.” 

 

Sniper’s hears his heartbeat loudly in his ears, “It’s no problem, and you can just call me Micky.” 

 

Spy glances to his son that's still looking over his baseball excitedly. This man has certainly overstepped his boundaries and has caused Spy more than enough stress. Spy walks over into Sniper’s space and throws an arm over his shoulder, “My friend, why don’t you stay for dinner?” 

 

This man is definitely going to kill him. “No I can’t really,” he stumbles, “I gotta’ be--” 

 

“Going?” Spy finishes his sentence for him, “Nonsense! Jeremy and I would love to have you over!” He then looks over to his son, who looks more than thrilled at the recent developments. “Isn’t that right Jeremy?” 

 

Jeremy jumps a little in his excitement, “Yeah!”

 

Spy’s arm holds Sniper even tighter now, “You see? There’s more than enough food to go around! Let’s head upstairs then, shall we?” 

 

Sniper nods and walks with Spy up the stairs to his apartment. He wiggles his neck slightly testing his grip, which is met with an even tighter hold from Spy. He’s not going to be able to wiggle his way out of this one. Sniper thinks that he could somehow physically throw the spy off of him, but when he tries to slip his arm in between them to get a better grip, Spy moves his sleeve in a way that purposely flashes his concealed knife. He leans in and whispers in Sniper’s ear, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,  _ friend. _ ” 

 

When they all reach the top of the stairs, Spy fishes the keys to the front door out of his pocket with his free hand, still keeping a tight grip on Sniper. He turns to his son handing him the keys, “Jeremy, do you think you could go inside and play for a bit? Me and Micky just need some privacy.” 

 

Jeremy looks to him confused, “Why?” 

 

“I just want to thank him for all that he’s done.” Spy shakes Sniper slightly, “Isn’t that right Micky?” 

 

Despite everything, Sniper manages to give the kid some sort of semblance of a smile and lies, “It’s alright kiddo, I’ll be there in a little bit.” 

 

That seems to do the trick. “Oh ok! See ya’ in a bit Mr. Micky!” Jeremy chirps back, managing to open the front door after two unsuccessful tries. 

 

Once the door closes, there a beat of silence immediately followed with Spy turning and smashing Sniper against the nearest brick wall. Spy’s knife reflects the bright oranges from the sun right into Sniper’s eyes now that it’s pressed up against his throat. Spy presses his whole weight onto the man, effectively pinning him to the wall. Over his shoulder, Sniper can see the front door to Spy’s apartment.

 

Spy again drops his act, practically growling with anger, “Now let’s not waste any more of our time _ Micky. _ I think we both know you’re not just some good natured samaritan, and I have killed men for much less.” 

 

“Gonna be awfully hard telling you my life story while you got a knife at my throat mate.” Sniper says plainly. He is not going to show this man any fear. 

 

“I don’t care about your miserable life.” Spy spits out, pressing on his knife harder, “I want to know why you’ve been following us. Who gave you this address?” 

 

Sniper hesitates, but figures he’s got nothing to lose and stares at Spy, “You want the truth?” 

 

“If you’d like to keep breathing that would be ideal.” 

 

Sniper stares at Spy, “I was sent to kill you about two weeks ago.” He pauses and points to the door, “And the only reason you’re still breathing right now is cause of ya’ kid.” 

 

Spy sneers, “Big talk coming from a man that's about to be found dead in a dumpster.” 

 

Sniper looks to him seriously again, “You think I’m kidding? I know everything about you buddy, and you and I both know the agency has wanted you dead for  _ years. _ Nobody told me you had a bloody kid alright, or I never would’ve taken this job in the first place.” 

 

Spy stares at Sniper intensely, looking for any hints that he might not be telling the truth. He waits trying to get Sniper to crack, but he continues to stare back at Spy, completely serious with his conviction. 

 

Sniper clears his throat, “Listen mate, I didn’t join the agency to kill dads and hurt kids, and if you don’t want to believe me, that's fine. But you and ya’ kid gotta get outta’ here. They already know I don’t want do this job, and in two days they are going to send even more men to track you down and kill me.”

 

Letting go of some of the pressure from his knife, Spy has the terrifying realization that the man in front of him isn’t lying. His mind races, they have to leave as soon as possible. They’ll have to pack the car up tonight and head out before--

 

In the middle of Spy’s train of thought the front door to his apartment squeaks open. Except it isn’t Jeremy that stands in the doorway.  

 

A leather clad, stocky man with a black bandana covering half his face whistles through the door out of Spy’s house and notices the two men against the wall and stops in his tracks. His bright red curly hair drops into his face as he looks between Spy and Sniper nervously. They all have just a sliver of silence and slight confusion before Spy realises he smells the overwhelming scent of  _ gasoline. _ The man in the leather jacket quickly lights a match and tosses it into the house before he bolts for the stairs. 

 

The house starts to go up into flames, and Spy immediately sprints away from Sniper to run into the apartment- Jeremy is still inside. Sniper on the other hand, breaks and launches himself at the man in the leather jacket, crashing into him right before his boot hits the first step of the stairs.

 

Sniper and the mystery man hit the railing by the stairs before rolling off to the side. It’s immediately obvious that whoever sent this man didn’t mean for him to get into any physical fights, as Sniper overpowers him easily and pins him to the ground. The man panics, not making words, but distressed grunts as he flails uselessly against the concrete. Sniper decides to get his legs first and grinds his own leg into the side of the man’s knee, he wants answers and this guy isn’t running away anytime soon.

 

Meanwhile, Spy runs into his fastly burning apartment.  It’s almost as if this guy soaked the whole place in gasoline, but he doesn’t know how that could’ve been done without Jeremy noticing. He runs to Jeremy’s room and tries to open the door. The first thing he notices is that the metal door knob is still cold, and second, its not locked, but he still can’t open the door. Spy can just barely hear Jeremy muffled wails from behind the door. 

 

“Jeremy can you hear me?!” Spy yells, “Open the door!” 

 

“I can’t!” 

 

Spy doesn’t know why the door isn’t opening, “Can you get through the window?!” 

 

Jeremy’s voice cracks, “It’s blocked!” 

 

“Ok stand back!” Spy says as he starts to kick at the door lock, his lungs filling with smoke. He’s starting to regret those extra long screws he installed on the doorways for security when they moved in.

 

Spy then sees Sniper run into the apartment from the corner of his eye. Sniper runs up to him, “Where’s the kid?!” Then realizing the situation, he understands immediately. He pulls Spy back from the door and motions to his own leg, “Kick it with me!” 

 

It takes two attempts to get the both of them to kick at the same time, but on the third try they hit their mark, and the door splinters and flies open. Spy runs in and scoops up a very terrified Jeremy from the corner of his room and sprints for the front door. Sniper picks up a handful of Jeremy’s things and runs after him, meeting them outside the front door. 

 

Spy coughs while he checks every part of Jeremy’s body, and by some kind of miracle he seems physically unharmed. Jeremy is shaken, he isn’t talking, and he sort of just stands there in confused relief as tears run down his face. Sniper walks up to Spy, “Listen, I don’t mean to break this up, but if you need anything important in there you better grab it now.”

 

He looks between Sniper and Jeremy, and nods, “Take him downstairs, I’ll be down in a moment.” 

 

“You can trust me.” Sniper answers. He watches Spy run back into the apartment and then he sinks to his knees to take a look at Jeremy, “You alright kiddo? Ya’ dad will be right back, you think you can walk with me?” 

 

Jeremy only nods as he takes Snipers hand to walk to the stairs. It’s then that Sniper realizes the man in the leather jacket he left unconscious and beaten bloody is slumped next to the stairs and Jeremy is staring at him wide eyed. He raises his hand up to Jeremy’s face to try to block his sight, “Don’t look kiddo, we gotta go.” 

 

They both walk down the stairs together and Sniper keeps close to Jeremy the entire time. When they hit the end of the stairs they wait for Spy to come out, and Sniper looks down at Jeremy and tries keeps his voice soft, “You sure you’re alright?”

 

Jeremy doesn’t look him in the eyes, but stares at the hand that was used to be covering his face. Snipers knuckles still have blood on them, and they don’t look to be in good shape, he hasn’t fought someone in a while. The little boy’s voice is dry when he stares back into Sniper’s eyes and speaks again, “Did you beat up that guy?” 

 

Sniper only sighs before he answers, “Yeah.” 

 

Jeremy doesn’t say anything more, he just looks away. Sniper doesn’t blame him. They both turn when they hear Spy’s fast footsteps down the stairs. He beelines for Jeremy and looks him over again just to make sure he’s alright. 

 

Sniper speaks up, “You wanna call the police?” 

 

“I’m sure that’s already been done.” He responds, “We certainly made enough noise.” 

 

“Weird that the fire alarms didn’t go off.” Sniper mumbles.

 

Spy’s face is serious and calculating, “That man knew we were going to be home, this wasn’t just some punk, this was a well thought out ambush. But at any rate, we need to leave.” 

 

Spy takes Jeremy’s hand from Sniper and starts to whisper comforting words to him as they fast walk towards the parking lot. Sniper waits for a moment before jogging after them, “And just where do you think your going?” 

 

He doesn’t turn around to address Sniper, “Away.” 

 

Sniper continues to follow behind them, “So you don’t have a plan.” 

 

“I don’t  _ need  _ a plan.” Spy quips back as he walks up to his car. The old small blue vehicle beeps as he unlocks the door with his keys.

 

“So that’s it then? You’re just gonna run off to God knows where and hope for the best?” 

 

Spy turns to him out of breath and with fire in his eyes, “I don’t seem to have much of a choice now do I? What do you suppose I do,  _ hitman _ ?!” 

 

They stand in the parking lot listening to the sounds of Spy’s apartment still burning. Sniper has a crazy idea that pops into his head as he looks at the spy and his son. 

 

“Come with me.” 

 

Spy doesn’t think he hears him right, “ _ What?! _ ”

 

Sniper stands his ground. “I said, come with me.” he starts to explain, “I have a camper van and there’s plenty of room, the police won’t be looking for me, and there's safety in numbers.” 

 

Spy clenches his jaw and let’s go of his son’s hand, “Jeremy,” he addresses him lowly, “Get in the car.” 

 

Jeremy knows when his father is angry, and this was well beyond angry.  He nervously walks the rest of the way to the car looking between the two men. Spy walks into Sniper’s space, and despite being a few inches shorter, he makes sure to get nose to nose with him and grabs his shirt.

 

Spy keeps his volume low, “If you think that for one moment that I would ever follow you, you're out of your mind.” he pauses trying to keep his rage in check, “I am leaving here with my son. And if I  _ ever _ see your face again, you’ll be be--” 

 

“Uh, dad?” A very nervous Jeremy squeaks out. 

 

“What is it?!” Spy yells. He feels guilty for sounding frustrated at the poor boy, but it has been an eventful day for all of them. Spy is still trying to recover from the fact that he almost just lost everything. 

 

Jeremy gives his father a scared look and then points, “T-The tires…“

 

Spy walks over to find that on top of everything else that's happened today, that bastard slashed their tires as well. He tries to take a moment to process this, but he doesn’t have a moment as sirens start to blare in the distance. The police are coming, and not only are they going to want answers as to how the apartment was set ablaze, Spy figures they won’t be very happy with the unconscious, bloody man that sits at the top of the stairs.

 

Sniper speaks up, “We don’t have much time, and the police are the least of your worries.” 

 

“I know that.” Spy groans out. He looks at his son and thinks. All things considered, this strange man wants to keep Jeremy safe, which is incredibly lucky to say the least. If he had to pick some crazy Australian stranger to run away from hitmen with, Spy figures that this man with the funny hat isn’t the  _ worst _ he could possibly do. 

 

Spy looks at Sniper again with a determined look in his eyes- no going back now. “Lead the way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> intense!! this was very different from what im used to writing, but still very fun!! 
> 
> Thank you all for all the nice comments!!!! They mean so much!!!!
> 
> PS- yes that was pyro that set their house on fire (hes also not dead i couldnt kill him;;)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sniper, Spy, and Jeremy hit the road

 

_ “Louisiana?!”  _ Spy borderline shrieks, “You're taking us to Louisiana?!” 

 

Sniper flinches at the man yelling in his ear from the passenger seat as he tries to keep focus on the road in front of him. “Stop yelling, would you?! The kid is sleeping.” He sighs, “Listen, I know a guy there and he can at least find us somewhere to hide out for a while.” 

 

Spy slumps in his seat, “Oh good. I’m glad our plan is based around a flimsy,  _ ‘I know a guy’.  _ Very reassuring.” 

 

“I’m sorry, I must have missed the part where _ you _ had a better plan.” Sniper shoots back, “And it’s not that bad. We can get there in a little under a day if we don’t stop to rest.” 

 

Spy scoffs, “You’re not going to drive for a day straight without rest. End of discussion.” 

 

“And why the bloody hell do you care what I do?” Sniper glances at him. 

 

“Cause I happen to be traveling in the same run down van as you and I’d like to keep my life for the time being.” Spy says as he looks out the window at the night sky. They’ve already been on the road for some time, but it’s only now that they’ve starting talking about an actual plan as to where they were supposed to go from here. 

 

Sniper pipes up again, “Ya’ know, you got a real sour attitude.” 

 

“Sorry if I’m not as charming as usual, I happened to have almost died a couple of hours ago.” Spy sneers at him. 

 

Sniper huffs, “Yeah well me too, so come off it already. It’s a long drive and I don’t wanna hear ya’ whining the whole way there.” 

 

“I’m not _ whining. _ ” Spy spits out as he lifts from his seat and heads for the small curtained doorway that separates the drivers seats from the main living space of the van. This was more of a small motorhome than a campervan really, Spy doesn’t know why the lunatic keeps referring to it as such. “Where’s the small excuse for a restroom you have in this place?” He asks over his shoulder as he searches for some sort of door.

 

“Don’t have one.” Sniper replies simply.

 

Spy peaks his head back into the drivers area, “You expect us to drive that long without a restroom?!” 

 

“Would you keep it down?!” Sniper harshly whispers at him, “And if it’s really that big of a deal, on top of the cabinets above the booth are some jars if you really can’t wait.” He grins, “Help yourself.” 

 

It takes Spy a few moments to process the words that come from the sly grin in front of him, and even longer to process the emotions he feels from such implications. He settles on pure rage. Glancing towards said cabinets, he finds some of the jars to be disgustingly half full.

 

Sniper keeps his eyes on the road, “What’s wrong, Spook?” he grins, knowing perfectly well what's wrong, “Something got ya’ in a tizzy?”

 

Spy’s voice returns to its threatening lowness he used during their altercation earlier that day, “Pull off at the next exit.” 

 

His tone catches Sniper completely off guard, “What? Hey mate, it was just a joke--” 

 

“I don’t care what it was.” Spy snaps, “Pull off at the next exit.” 

 

That shuts him up. Sniper sits in silence as Spy walks back into the main area of the van leaving him alone.  All things considered, Sniper figures that it’s only fair that he lets the spy make his own decisions. If he really wants to leave, there’s nothing keeping him here; he grabbed everything he needed from the apartment, so he can just run off if he’d like. But as much as Sniper tries to convince himself, he can’t stop the bitter taste in his mouth over the whole thing.

 

When he quietly flicks on his blinker and turns off of the highway, Sniper reminds himself that it’s none of his business anyway. It’s strange, but he can’t explain why he feels like he’s being abandoned, and the pain in his chest that follows. He’ll have to try to convince Spy to stay, he shouldn’t have to make it all on his own. Sniper then realizes he can’t tell whether he thinks this for the kid’s sake or his own.

 

Sniper hears the sound of papers rustling, then Spy peaks his head back into the front of the vehicle and squints at the road, “Take the street on your second right.”

 

“You bringing me somewhere to kill me?” Sniper asks as he switches lanes. He says it as a joke, but he can’t keep the bitterness out of his voice.

 

“Not this time.” Spy snorts, “Maybe another time.” 

 

Sniper waits for Spy to explain himself, but an explanation never comes. As he obediently takes the second street on his right, Sniper is met with a small building and a large bright blue neon sign reading  _ “The Bluegrass Motel”.  _

 

“Kentucky.” Spy mumbles bitterly, “I can’t believe you have me sleeping in the hillbilly capital of the world.” 

 

“I…” Sniper responds confused as he parks the motorhome, “I did what now?” 

 

Spy smiles at him, “Is something wrong Micky? I suppose taking a shower and eating a hot meal are new concepts for a person like you, so I’ll break it down slowly so you can understand. We are staying the night here. You need your rest and I need a proper restroom.” 

 

And just like that, Spy leaves Sniper again to grab his things and check on Jeremy.  When he’s alone, Sniper turns off the van and instinctively grabs the collar of his shirt at the immense relief that washes over him. He lets out a long sigh that's just a tad too shaky for his liking and leans back in his seat. This man is going to be the death of him at this rate. Whether or not he ends up croaking from an actual knife in his back or figurative one is still up for debate.

 

Spy’s annoyed voice reaches his ears from the back, “Are you going to help me here or should I just turn myself in to the authorities now?”

 

The seat squeaks as Sniper silently laughs to himself and enters into the back of the van. Looking at the booth table, he finds the source of the rustling sound from earlier, a large map that Spy must have brought with him. He finds Spy elbow deep into his drawers of clothing under the small lofted bed in the back. “The police are going to be looking for Jeremy and I, and unless you’re volunteering to pay for the room with money that can’t be tracked, I need to change clothes and pay for it myself.” 

 

He emphasizes this with quickly taking off his shirt and replacing it with a dark red cotton tank top Sniper recognizes as his go-to pajama shirt. He doesn’t respond, even if he could Sniper’s not sure what he’d say. If he’s learned anything during his short trip with the spy, it’s that this man has a brand of determination that few others possess. And that apparently Spy looked good in his tank top. Sniper decides to ignore the latter for now.

 

Spy glances back into the drawer and smiles as he lifts a light pink collared button up shirt patterned with tiny palm trees, “Really?” He asks sarcastically, smiling at Sniper, “I didn’t know pink was your color!” 

 

“It’s  _ salmon. _ ” He corrects him defensively, “And it happens to be very comfy.”

 

“It’s ridiculous.” Spy laughs as he lightly tosses the shirt back where it belonged. He then turns to Sniper and gestures out his hand, “Give me your glasses.” 

 

Sniper doesn’t question him as he hands Spy his yellow sunglasses from where they rested on the top of his hat. Spy messes with his hair a bit in the small sink to his left and throws on the glasses, when he turns back to Sniper and smiles at him, he somehow grins in a way that makes him look like an entirely different person. Spy’s whole demeanor changes instantly, and his accent is nowhere to be found when he speaks again, “So how do I look?”

 

“Different enough, I guess.” Sniper responds impressed, “At least you're good at what you do.” 

 

“If I wasn’t good at my job Mr. Mundy I would’ve been found dead years ago.” Spy simply responds as he starts to leave the van and points to the bed in the back, “I’ll get us a room, you watch Jeremy.” 

 

The door slams behind him, and Spy beelines for the small room in front with the reception desk. Upon opening the small shop, he hears a tiny bell ring and a very uninterested older women at the front desk lift her head from her magazine, her frizzled white hair sticking out wildly. 

 

Spy walks up to the women keeping his sunglasses on over his eyes, “One room please. Two twin beds if you have it.” 

 

She stares at Spy nonchalantly before looking over her shoulders at the large bin of keys on the wall. “We don’t, sorry. Only singles tonight it seems.” 

 

“Are you sure?” Spy asks smiling, silently cursing his luck, “Can you check again?

 

The front desk women just keeps her dead set eyes staring at Spy, extremely uninterested and now very annoyed, “I just did. There’s only singles sir.”

 

Spy keeps his smile plastered on his face as he fishes out the cash to pay for the room and politely takes the key from the woman, “I guess that’ll have to do then! Have a good night!” He waves as he hears the tiny bell ring again at his exit.

 

His shoes clack on the asphalt as Spy borderline stomps his way back to Sniper’s motorhome. There was no way in hell he was ever sharing a bed with this man, he paid for the damned room, Jeremy and him can just sleep there and Micky can stay in his piss filled van for all he cared. He also made a mental note to change back into his old shirt before he leaves for the night, the tank top he had on still smelled like that damn lunatic and it was driving him crazy. 

 

When Spy open the side door into the main living space of the van, he walks in to find Jeremy happily sitting on Sniper’s shoulders trying to “pilot” him around the cramped space by tugging on his hair. 

 

Jeremy whips Sniper around and locks eyes with his father and smiles widely, “Dad you’re not gonna believe this!” he yells excitedly, “Mr. Micky is a superhero!” 

 

Sniper laughs nervously as he lifts the small boy from his shoulders and places him gently on the ground, “Heh, what’d I say about telling other people kiddo?” 

 

Jeremy clamps his hands over his mouth and mutters out a small apology before trotting over to his dad’s side. Spy raises an eyebrow at Sniper, who looks like he much rather be somewhere else, “A superhero, huh?” 

 

“It’s ok.” Jeremy says as he tugs on his father’s sleeve and whispers “I know you’re a superhero too. Your secrets safe with me.” 

 

Spy chuckles at him, “I guess that's good to know, but shouldn’t you be sleeping?” 

 

“I woke up.” Jeremy replies with a yawn. 

 

“I can see that.” Spy smiles at him, “But how about we let Mr. Micky rest for the night?” he then turns to Sniper, “They only had a room with one bed, I hope you don’t mind if we take it and you sleep here.”  

 

“It’s only fair, you paid for it.” Sniper responds, scratching his head, “You don’t mind if I take a shower and get cleaned up though, do ya’?”

 

“Not at all.” Spy says with a smirk, “Anything for a fellow superhero.” 

 

Sniper groans, all he was trying to do was convince the kid to actually talk to him again. Poor Jeremy wouldn’t even look at him when he woke up to Spy accidentally slamming the door when he left. He eventually sleepily asks Sniper why he hurt the thug that ambushed their home. It’s not like Sniper is going to explain that he’s a trained hitman and that’s his job, so he lies. He just knows that Spy is going to hang this fib over his head for a while. If it wasn’t him in the situation, Sniper would find it all hilarious instead of childish and frankly, a little embarrassing.

 

The rest of the night goes smoothly. As snobby as Spy tended to be, he was right, this was the first time Sniper had a warm shower in around a week, and his muscles and sore body graciously thanked him for it. When he dresses and leaves the small bathroom, Jeremy is fast asleep beside Spy, who’s sitting up against the headboard and quietly reading. Sniper passes by him and only gives a wave before grabbing the door to head out for the night, but Spy stops him and sets his book down by the bedside table.

 

“I... wanted to thank you.” Spy says cautiously above a whisper, “I know this is not an optimal situation for you either.” 

 

“Eh, It’s fine.” Sniper grins, “Never thought I’d see the day when a bloody spy would thank me for anything though.” 

 

“You’re ruining it.” He shoots back, but the words hold no malice when they pass through his smile.

 

Sniper messes through his damp hair with his fingers, “I meant to ask earlier, but Is there name I should call you, or should I just go by your last alias?”

 

“Oh god no, Davet was a horrible name.” Spy lowly chuckles, “What was it you called me?” he pauses, “Spook? I think I’ve taken a liking to that for now.”

 

Sniper rubs his chin in thought, “That ain’t a real name though.” 

 

Spy smiles, “None of them are.”

 

Sniper nods back, “Guess that’s true.” He sighs and reaches for the knob of the front door, waving to the man again, “I’ll see ya’ in the morning then Spook.” 

 

Spy gives him a quick goodnight and decides to try to get some rest. It was an understatement to say it’s been a long day. He has to admit, when he woke up this morning to get Scout’s homeschooling paperwork sorted out, Spy didn’t think he was going to be going to sleep in a motel in southern Kentucky, but here he was. He hears Jeremy’s light breathing beside him and it reminds him that everything could have been a lot worse.  

 

It scares him to think that they were found by that thug so easily, terrified even. That this person got into their apartment and silently waited till someone came home to block all the exits and slowly burn them to death. Spy closes his eyes and tries to push all of these thoughts from his head, he knows more than anyone that he needs his rest. Before he drifts off to sleep, Spy pulls the covers over his shoulders and realizes he never gave Sniper his tank top back. Inwardly, he tries to find the whole situation annoying, but the shirt from the man that saved his son is undoubtedly comforting, the soft fabric and residual feeling of safety from it is what finally lulls him to sleep.

 

In the morning, Jeremy is his usual ball of energy. Looking at him, you wouldn’t even think that he was stuck in a burning building the night before. He wakes his father, after waiting very patiently for him to get up on his own for a total five minutes before bouncing at his side excitedly. Spy eventually lifts his sore body from the warmth of the blankets, and silently curses Jeremy’s energy. He loves that boy to death, but he was sure he got all this energy from his mother, god knows he’s never been this excited to wake up in his life.

 

There isn’t a whole lot you can do in the mornings when most of your stuff was burned in a fire. Spy only had time to grab his emergency supply of cash he kept, his gun, fake IDs, some of Jeremy’s toys, and assorted family photos. They no longer own toothbrushes or any other bathroom amenities, and Spy was going to have to buy new clothes for the both of them.  At the very least, Spy is glad Jeremy can take a shower, he was much too tired the night before. 

 

When they go to check out the old cranky woman is still there, and if she thought Spy was annoying, she must find Jeremy infuriating as he rings the front desk bell repeatedly.  Spy knows he should teach him that it’s rude to do that, but he also finds it hilarious to watch her stare at him with a horrible death stare that doesn’t even affect the very oblivious Jeremy. 

 

Walking up to Sniper’s motorhome, Spy hears the faint sound of music coming from inside. When he knocks loudly on the metal side door, Spy hears Sniper yell for him to come in along with the banging of what he guesses is kitchen ware.

 

Upon entering the cramped space, he first notices the sweet smell in the air, the slow jazz music playing from the portable radio, and then he finally notices Sniper hovering over the small skillet on the counter. 

 

Jeremy smells it too and pushes past his father, “Pancakes!” he screams. Sniper laughs as the small boy runs up beside him and looks at the breakfast, “I didn’t know you could cook Mr. Micky!” 

 

Sniper rubs his neck, “Well I just figured I’d run down to the store and grab some grub. I’m gonna need a lot more now that there’s three of us and all.” 

 

“You didn’t need to cook.” Spy counters, “I would’ve--” 

 

“Just take the bloody breakfast and sit down would ya’.” Sniper interrupts him with a grin as he pushes two plates of lopsided pancakes onto the booth table. 

 

Jeremy doesn’t need to be told twice as he flings his body into the booth, staring wide eyed at his stack of pancakes, “Thanks Mr. Mickey!” 

 

“No problem kiddo.” Sniper responds as he places the last pancake on his plate and heads for the sink to wash up. He turns towards the small cupboard, “Let me grab the syrup.” 

 

“None for me.” Spy responds and he cuts a corner of pancake with his fork, “Too sweet.” 

 

Sniper huffs, “Sorry mate, I forgot you frenchies like your pancakes thin and with  _ fruit _ .”

 

“Bleh.” Jeremy comments poking at his food, “I want syrup.” 

 

“Now there’s a good lad.” Sniper laughs lightly.

 

When Sniper opens the cupboard, Spy can’t help but see a soft red glow come from the corner of the inside. Sniper doesn’t comment on it at all when he grabs the syrup and flops down into the booth on the other side of Jeremy and Spy. “There we are!” 

 

“What was that red light in your cabinet?” Spy asks before he puts another piece of plain pancake in his mouth. Jeremy ignores him completely and swipes the syrup to drown his own plate of pancakes in.

 

“Been snooping around Spook?” Sniper quips, “Oh, it’s just my heat lamp for the Shelia. She’s taking a nap is all.” 

 

“Shelia?” Spy asks.

 

Sniper waits for Jeremy to finally finish with the syrup and grabs it for himself, “Oh sorry, must have slipped my mind. She’s my lizard.” 

 

Spy thinks that if this man keeps surprising him on a daily basis, he might have to go into a new line of work, “Your  _ what _ ?!”

 

“There’s no need to get all crazy about it, she’s just a tiny one. A little bearded dragon I picked up after a mission.” Sniper defends as he cuts his breakfast. 

 

Spy considered anything with scales a spawn of satan, let alone something that could grow to the size of a small cat. He doesn’t answer Sniper, but rather settles for a look of complete disgust as he stuffs another piece of pancake in his mouth.

 

“So her name is Sheila?” Jeremy asks, his mouth still full of food, which earns him a quiet warning from his father about speaking with food in his mouth.

 

“She doesn’t really have a name.” Sniper admits, “I’ve been just calling her that for now.” 

 

Spy speaks up, “I don’t care what it’s called, just please keep it away from me.”

 

“It’s a she dad, not an it.” Jeremy corrects him, causing Spy to huff in reluctant agreement.

 

Sniper points at Jeremy with his fork, “You know, I betcha’ you could come up with a real nice name, huh?” 

 

Jeremy ponders this for a moment in deep focus at the plate of breakfast in front of him, “What about Pancake?” He asks with a large smile.

 

Spy look to his son, “Don’t you think that’s a silly name for a lizard?”

 

“Why do you care?” Sniper moves his fork to point at Spy, “It’s not your lizard, you don’t even like her.”

 

“Yeah!” Jeremy chips in with a large piece of pancake shoved in his mouth.

 

Spy decides to just sigh. He can’t really argue, he doesn’t care enough. And they’re right, he wants nothing to do with the scaly demon, and if they want to name it something ridiculous, so be it.

 

“Pancake it is then!” Sniper says triumphantly. They then get into a long winded debate about whether or not Jeremy is allowed to hold Pancake later, to which Spy is afraid the reptile has some sort of disease and Sniper assures him of her clean bill of health.

 

After breakfast, they hit the road again. Hours pass, but thankfully with the very few action figures Spy was able to save from the fire and the new found bearded dragon, Jeremy finds himself more than occupied. As it turns out, Pancake makes an excellent monster in action figure wars, and she’s much nicer than Spy would’ve guessed. It doesn’t mean however that he doesn’t keep a six foot radius between them at all times.  

 

For most of their time, Spy and Sniper spend it talking about the trip. This eventually leads to Sniper’s connection to the random man in Louisiana and his apparent immense trust in the him.

 

“I used to perform with him.” Sniper explains, “I’d trust him with my life.”

 

Spy glances at him skeptically, “What kind of performances are we talking about here?”

 

“Don’t look at me like that.” He counters, “And I happened to be an up and coming musician back in the day. We were in a small jazz band.” 

 

“Color me impressed.” Spy responds honestly, “I didn’t think you were the music type.”

 

Sniper smiles at his memories, “I played tenor sax and he played the piano. We both came from across the world so no one wanted to hire us.” he laughs, “People aren’t exactly looking for foreign jazz musicians.” 

 

“So now you kill people for a living?” Spy asks him, checking to make sure Jeremy isn’t listening.

 

“That-” he starts, “-is an entirely different and long story. One I’d rather not get into while the kid is around.” 

 

“Fair enough.” Spy agrees and lets the topic drop out of respect. He doesn’t want to talk about his past or work either.

 

The next few hours are spent over lunch, more driving, Spy continuously complaining about the very presence of Pancake, and Jeremy defending her right to be out and about. He seems to have really taken to the lizard, which proved to Sniper how tough this kid really is. Here he is, only a day later from all that chaos, playing like a normal kid.  He was sure there were going to be nightmares and questions as he gets older, Sniper still deals with these himself, but for now Jeremy remains a beacon of hope for him and his father. 

 

When they finally reach the bright and colorful city of New Orleans, they spend about an hour just roaming the city looking for Sniper friend’s shop on the outskirts of town. Jeremy spends his time with his face stuck to the window asking rapid fire questions about everything that passes by them. Spy has to admit, although this isn’t the city he would pick to hide out in, the french influence on the buildings is awfully charming and reminds him a little of home.

 

The motorhome comes to a slow, squeaking halt when they finally find the highly decorated wooden shop. Sniper parks, and smiles at the nostalgia of the small shack, and it hits him that it’s been at least decade since he set foot in the place. He grabs the attention of Spy and Jeremy and leads them inside the shop, the large painted wooden sign looming over them reading  _ “DeGroot’s Voodoo and More”. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took so long guys!!!! I hope you enjoyed it!!
> 
> also i just noticed i updated on father's day?????? how nice???


	4. Chapter 4

 

The sound of multiple wind chimes and bells greet the trio as Sniper opens the wooden door into the seemly empty  _ DeGroot’s Voodoo and More _ . If there was any space left on the wall or ceiling, it’s already been taken up by some sort of knick knack or treasure. The amount of visual noise in the room is overwhelming, and if it wasn’t for the fact that Sniper had already been to the shop before, it would’ve taken them at least a few minutes to find the front desk. 

 

Sniper rings the bell on the counter and glances towards the doorway to his left towards the other end of the counter, the one he knows leads to the small room he used to goof off in with his dear friend. Spy looks around the shop suspiciously and keeps track of Jeremy, who is currently having a blast looking at all the strange products. He takes a liking to the gator feet keychains before Spy explains that it’s  _ real _ gator feet, to which Jeremy puts them down in surprised horror. 

 

He rings the bell again, it never usually takes this long. Sniper leans over the counter to look as far as he can into the doorway, “Tavish? Are ya’ there, it’s Mick.”

 

The sound of cans and trash shuffling can be barely heard, but no one emerges from the doorframe. A gruff, accented voice yells from the back room, “Mick? As in Micky Mundy?”

 

“The one and only.” Sniper smiles, he knows that voice anywhere.

 

“Well hell!” the voice shouts, “What are ya’ doing dragging yer’ arse all the way here and not even calling me first! I’m indecent!” 

 

Spy shoots Sniper a silent look of confusion, and Sniper shrugs and runs a hand through his hair, “Sorry, we were in a bit of a hurry. We can go get dinner and come back.” 

 

“ _ We?! _ You mean there’s more than one of ya’?”

 

The tall dark man finally emerges from the back of the shop shimming on a pair of sweatpants, tying them around his waist and not making eye contact quite yet, “Ten years without more than a couple bloody phone calls and home visits, and you show up at my doorstep with another man asking for god knows what--” He finally lifts his head to see Sniper smiling wide at him and his anger melts, “Now you know that’s not fair. I always was a sucker for that stupid horse face.” he points at him. 

 

Sniper just laughs, “Aw, now that’s not very nice Tavish.” 

 

“Not very nice?!” he strides over past the counter and hugs Sniper, “I’m not the one that apparently can’t use a bloody payphone.”

 

Spy stands awkwardly off to the side as he watches this strange shirtless man in sweatpants hug Sniper for a moment. The first thing he notices is the eyepatch on the man’s face, and the second being that Sniper is just barely taller than him. Although the other man clearly held onto muscle and fat better, as he had a much larger presence about him. 

 

They break from their hug and Sniper sighs, “You know how it is in the business, things get crazy. Didn’t mean to leave ya’ out to dry for so long.” 

 

He laughs, “Aye, now that sounds like a real load of bull. But I could ramble on all day, who’s your friend?” he gestures out to Spy.

 

Sniper moves to invite Spy into the conversation, directing him over by the waist, “Well ya’ see that’s the complicated part-” 

 

Tavish snorts and raises a brow, “Oh, so it’s like that is it?” 

 

“Oh god.” Sniper groans and pulls his hand away from Spy, “It’s not-” 

 

“Like what?” Spy interrupts curiously, a charming smile plastered on his face.

 

“Your man must have a lot of balls to bring his new fella here.” Tavish points between the two of them, “And let me guess, you need a place to stay?” 

 

Sniper clears his throat, “Well yeah, but-” 

 

“And ya’ think I didn’t notice the wee lad back there?” Tavish pokes Sniper’s chest, “Just what hell have ya’ been up to Mick?” 

 

“I think there must be an misunderstanding.” Spy responds coolly, “That happens to be my son and I’ve only known Micky for one? Two days?” he turns to Sniper, “Or should we also count the week you were stalking us?” 

 

Sniper rubs his temple and takes a deep breath, “Like I said, it’s not like  _ that  _ Tavish. We just need your help.”

 

Tavish glances between the two of them again skeptically and sighs, “Well it’s not like I got a place just lying around right now for you and your boyo to stay at.” he pauses in thought, “Why don’t I get dressed, and we can talk over some drinks.” 

 

They both nod to him in agreement, and before he disappears between the doorway in the back he points at Sniper again and squints, “And you're paying.” he emphasises the statement with a huff. 

 

Once Tavish is gone from the room, Spy turns to Sniper with a huge smirk, “What was all that about?” 

 

Sniper checks his wallet for cash and groans at Spy’s grin. “That’s another long story.” 

 

“I can still hear you ya’ know!” Tavish yells from the back, “And the story ain’t that long!” 

 

Sniper cringes, “Tavish, I don’t think now is the time to get into this-” 

 

“Get into what?” His booming voice interrupts sarcastically, “I’m not gettin’ into anything!”

 

Spy speaks up with a smile, “I would hope you’d be getting into more clothes at the very least.” 

 

When Tavish walks out a moment later, he’s in his same sweatpants just with a matching hoodie and tennis shoes. He laughs and pats Spy on the back as he walks by, “I like this one. Very witty.” he winks at Sniper. “What was your name again?” 

 

“He’s a spook.” Sniper responds quickly.

 

Tavish gives a knowing nod of his head, “Ah, I get it. Well how ‘bout I just call ya’ Charley? You look like a Charley to me.” 

 

Sniper laughs, “God, that’s awful.”

 

“I’ve had worse.” Spy admits.

 

“Charley it is then!” He pats Spy on the back one last time, then squints over at Jeremy, who is taking refuge just slightly behind his father, still cautious of this loud man and his shop ever since the alligator foot keychain incident. Tavish sticks out a hand to him with a large smile, “And what’s your name lad?” 

 

“Jeremy.” He responds tentatively as he shakes the large man’s hand and then points to Tavish’s eyepatch, “What happened to your eye?”

 

Spy gives him a scolding nudge, “Jeremy, that’s not-” 

 

“It’s fine!” Tavish laughs. He leans down to Jeremy’s level and whispers, “And just between you and me, a wizard took it when I was right around your age.” 

 

His blue eyes go wide, “A real wizard?” he repeats in awe.

 

“Aye.” Tavish gives a mysterious look and turns his attention to Sniper and Spy, “But enough of that, why don’t we head out for drinks?” 

 

“If I’m paying for your tab I might need to pull out a loan.” Sniper grumbles.

 

Tavish pats Sniper’s shoulder as he opens the front door, “Oh, boo-hoo.” he mocks, “Good thing I heard they’re gettin’ more loose with loans for foreign fellas like us.” 

 

The bar they visit doesn’t end up being the one that Tavish regulars at, but rather a pub and grill down the street that he knows has food for Jeremy as well. Sniper remembers visiting the same restaurant years ago, and although it’s changed management since then, the live band still plays slow tunes for the customers to enjoy. As they are seated at their booth near the back of the dim restaurant, the guitar player plucks a relaxing tune that matches the overall atmosphere.

 

They shuffle into their seats, Spy and Jeremy on one side and Sniper and Tavish on the other. When they order drinks, it’s only Tavish that orders unabashedly orders any alcohol, but he reminds Sniper to loosen up a bit. 

 

“He used to get like this all the time.” Tavish explains to Spy, “He’d act holier than the rest of us, then the next week drink an entire keg!” 

 

“What’s a keg?” Jeremy asks, looking up from coloring his kids menu.

 

“I think that’s enough of that for now.” Sniper interrupts waving his arms, “And it’s just a big… glass for adult drinks kiddo.” 

 

“Much bigger than a  _ glass. _ ” Tavish teases under his breath. 

 

“Anyway,” Spy breaks in cooly, “You said you might have a place for us to stay?” 

 

He sighs, “Well if you were here a few days ago I would’ve, but right now this german loon and his bodyguard are occupying the space as it is. They’re supposed to be traveling on out of here pretty soon I hear, but only so many people can hide out in a basement ya’ know?” 

 

Spy turns to Sniper and quietly seethes, “You brought me all the way to Louisiana for a  _ basement?! _ ”

 

Sniper looks offended, “What?! It’s a better idea than no idea!”

 

Spy just rolls his eyes as Tavish takes another drink and speaks up, “Like I said they’ll be out fairly soon, so you're welcome to stick around till the place is all yours. It's got furniture, electricity, and water, all I ask is for some help around the shop occasionally. I owe Mick a favor anyway.” He laughs. 

 

“And I suppose taking in complete strangers for god knows how long would repay that favor?” Spy asks with a suspicious look. 

 

“Oh I’d have to do much more than that.” Tavish answers honestly. 

 

Sniper huffs with a smile, “I said ya’ don’t owe me anything, it’s fine.” 

 

“This man here,” Tavish starts, pointing sideways at Sniper and sloshing his drink, “was my best mate for years and saved my arse more times than I can count.”

 

Spy looks between the two of them, “Sounds like an incredible partnership.”

 

“You can say that again!” Tavish laughs at Sniper, who looks like he’d enjoy slinking away somewhere private and away from this conversation, “This man could just about convince me into anything! All the trouble we used to get in together, I’m surprised we were never arrested!” 

 

“Superheros can get arrested?” Jeremy perks up again. 

 

All three of them turn towards the curious young boy, his stare fixated on Sniper and waiting for an answer. 

 

He gulps, “Well kiddo, we all weren’t superheroes…  _ all _ the time. We kinda just, grew into it?” 

 

This answer seems to satisfy him, as Jeremy just nods knowingly and goes back to coloring. 

 

Tavish wraps his arm around Sniper’s shoulder and smiles, “A Superhero, huh? When did ya’ become one of those?” 

 

“Around the same time you did.” Sniper grumbles back, “Remember?” he asks with eyebrows raised. 

 

He then looks between all three of them and catches on, “I’m not so sure superheroes is the correct term for what we do, but what the hell.” Tavish shrugs. 

 

They enjoy their meal over stories of Tavish and Mick’s wild past. As it turns out, Sniper used to be quite the heavy drinker, and for years gave Tavish a run for his money. They used to do everything together, from play in their two man band, to partying, to eventually joining this wretched career path. Tavish was known as a Demolitions Expert, but he was hardly called for field work anymore. Most of his work nowadays was spent just creating new horrors for the boss to use on people he wasn’t allowed to know.  Money was money at the end of the day, and if he could help get people out with a place to stay, no matter their past, then that’s what he would do on the side. As much of a deviant he seemed to be, this Demoman had at least some of his heart in the right place. 

 

It’s only later, after their meal when Tavish has one too many drinks, that Sniper and Spy decide to take him home. They take their stuff and leave, Tavish holding onto Sniper’s shirtsleeve when he stands.

 

His words only slur slightly, the side effect of many years of controlled drinking, “Oh Micky you think you can just get all sweet on me again for another roll in the hay, dontcha?” 

 

Spy shoots Sniper a knowing grin, “Again?” 

 

Sniper’s holding the front door open before can shut Tavish up, “He acts like he didn’t come here years ago asking for a second chance!”

 

“That’s enough Tavish!” Sniper nervously grabs him and pushes him through the door, “No more of that tonight. Story times over and all that.”

 

“Oh really?” Spy laughs, “But he was just getting to the good part.” 

 

“The real good part,” Tavish perks up and pushes Sniper off of him, “Is the fact I’ve been seeing someone that won't skimp out on me!” 

 

Sniper looks genuinely surprised and honestly smiles, “Really? That’s great I’m happy for ya’ mate!” 

 

Tavish smiles back at him, “That means I won’t have to worry about your horse face laying around my place anymore.” 

 

He laughs, “We can only hope.” 

 

It only takes them around thirty minutes to get back to Tavish’s shop, dump Tavish back off in his back room and get Jeremy tucked in at Sniper’s motorhome. It’s late, and Jeremy only protests slightly at being put to bed.

 

Spy turns to Sniper who sits at the booth once Jeremy falls asleep and grins, “Tavish seems nice.” 

 

Sniper sighs and hides his face, “He’s still quite the talker I’ll give him that.” 

 

Spy pulls two glasses from the cabinet across from him, “Would you like anything to drink?” 

 

“Now that it’s just us? Sure.” Sniper smiles, “I’ll have whatever you’re having.” 

 

“Well, what do you recommend?” Spy turns back to his selection, “It seems like beer and sink water is all you live on, if I may be so bold.” 

 

“There should be a nice bourbon under the sink for special occasions.” 

 

Spy smiles as he finds the liquor and reads the label, “So you consider this a special occasion?”

 

“Why not?” Sniper adds casually, “Drinking with a friend can be special.”

 

Spy pours their drinks and hands Sniper his glass as he settles into the other end of the booth. “I suppose that’s true.” he pauses for a drink, “Why didn’t you want to drink with Tavish then? You two seemed awfully close.” 

 

“Close is one word for it.” He laughs bitterly, “And I loved drinking with Tavish, but my body can’t really handle it anymore I guess.”

Spy takes a sip from his glass and coughs, “Ulcers?” 

 

“Nah, it just messed with my head too much is all.” Sniper explains, “Tavish is a happy drinker, it did me worse than it ever did him.” 

 

He gives a nod, “That's understandable. Plenty of people in our profession wallow in regret so to speak.” 

 

“See that's the thing.” Sniper points, “I’d like to say I’ve regretted it, but I haven’t. I’m damn good at my job, one of the bloody best. Can’t say that about a lot of things.” 

 

Spy shakes his head knowingly, “That’s fair enough. Although I would argue otherwise.” 

 

Sniper just raises an eyebrow, “And why's that?” 

 

“Well, for one you seem to be an excellent tracker.” Spy grins, “Even if I did find you out.” 

 

“Aw geez.” He mumbles. 

 

“And two,” Spy starts, “Despite your overall sense of awkwardness and hostility, you tend to draw others towards yourself. You’re unpredictably good at making allies.” 

Sniper takes a swing of his drink, “Some call that a weakness. If you got too many people ya’ care about I mean.” 

 

“Do you consider me a weakness?” Spy asks seriously. Sniper locks eyes with him, and has the slight feeling that he's being interrogated under his stare. His mind goes blank, and he’s not sure what he should say. Spy speaks up, “Or here’s a better question, do you consider me an ally?” 

 

Sniper collects his thoughts, “Of course I do Spook.” 

 

“And why is that?” Spy again looks at him with a piercing stare, “What have I done to make you think that?” 

 

And again Sniper can’t come up with an answer. He can’t seem to think of a time in which Spy had shown any kind of loyalty especially towards him, but rather it seems to be all one sided. Sniper was the one that gave up everything and ran away, he just happened to bring Spy with him. 

 

Spy smiles after a moment, “I’m not saying you’re incorrect about your assumption, I would consider you an ally as well. A very valuable one.” he sighs, “I just can’t seem to figure you out Mick. Why are you doing all of this?” 

 

Sniper stares at his drink and sighs, “Don’t know. I suppose some of it’s for the kiddo.” 

 

“And the rest of it?” 

 

He laughs nervously, Sniper isn’t sure how he’s supposed to answer that kind of question, so he keeps his voice low, “Missed having someone else around I guess.” 

 

Spy laughs, “You? A deadly lonewolf sniper getting lonely? Preposterous!” 

 

He smiles slowly, “Geez mate, you make it seem like it’s an obvious thing.”

 

“It’s only natural for people to want to be with one another.” Spy starts as he pours more drink out for himself, “There’s no reason to be ashamed for such a fact.” 

 

Sniper just grunts in agreement with a smirk. Spy certainly was a pompous ass sometimes, but he’s glad he’s lucky enough to see this side of him, the side that actually cares. 

 

“Oh, before I forget-” Spy lifts himself from the table and saunters over to the small drawer under Jeremy’s bed and pulls out a sheet of paper. Sniper leans to get a closer look, and when Spy lays it on the table, Sniper realizes it’s Jeremy’s kids menu from the restaurant. Flipping it over, Spy reveals the crude crayon drawing on the backside. “I think he forgot to show you before he just about passed out on your bed.” Spy laughs. 

 

Sniper gently picks up the drawing so he can see it better, and finds that he’s drawn right next to Spy and Jeremy. He can tell from the funny looking hat Jeremy obviously tried his best on, and the baseball drawn in his left hand. They’re drawn at the park, just the three of together, and other than Jeremy being drawn with a jetpack it’s an incredibly sweet drawing. Sniper squints, and even finds Pancake hidden up in the tree as well.

 

He gulps down the swelling feeling in his throat, it’s a lot to take in. “He’s very talented.” Is all Sniper manages to say, but he can’t keep the small smile off of his face. He takes another moment to take it all in, then looks back up to Spy, “You mind if I, uh, put it up or something?” 

 

“You want to hang it on the fridge?” Spy snorts.

 

“It don’t have to be the fridge!” Sniper laughs at his own embarrassment, “But sure, the fridge is fine.”

 

After a moment of shuffling through drawers Sniper finds a magnet he got from an electrician's mail-in ad years ago when he had an actual address.  Sticking Jeremy’s picture up on the fridge is such a strangely normal thing to do, as if he wasn’t a man that enjoyed being efficient at murdering people from afar. He steps back and he has a sense of pride well up inside him, but he’s still trying to reason with himself that it’s nothing, probably just something he ate or heartburn from the drinks. 

 

Spy wraps his arm around Sniper’s shoulder, “You’ve left quite the impression on him you know. All things considered, I really do appreciate it.” 

 

“How are ya’ gonna tell him when he’s older that I was supposed to kill you.” Sniper laughs.

 

He looks at him, “I think the story of how I outsmarted you with my wit and charm is a much better story to tell, don’t you think?” 

 

“Outsmarted?” Sniper playfully pushes him away, “I’m not so sure that’s how it went. And you got the charm of roadkill mate. It’s right awful.” 

 

“Aw, now those are some harsh words Micky.” Spy sits himself at the booth, “I wouldn’t think a man with a horse face would have such confidence in himself.” 

 

Sniper groans, “Damn Tavish and his bloody awful nicknames.” 

 

“You don’t like the name horse face?” He feigns ignorance through his soft chuckles, “How about Sea Biscuit?”

 

“Enough with the horse nicknames or I’ll start calling you Charley.” Sniper points at him.

 

Spy laughs harder than he probably should have at Snipers joke, and his laugh dissolves into ugly snorting as he bangs the table slightly. It’s been awhile since he’s laughed that hard, “Oh God, please no! Charley is the worst!” 

 

Sniper laughs along with him, eyebrows raised at the noises Spy makes in his laughter, “That’s quite the laugh you got there Spook.” he teases. 

 

He wipes the tears from his eyes, “Oh, tell me something I don’t know.” 

 

“It’s actually sort of nice” Sniper starts, “Very unique. I kinda like it.” 

 

The statement buries itself deep into Spy’s mind, back to all those years ago when  _ she _ had told him the very same thing. Spy had been here before years ago, but it wasn’t in a motorhome that smelled slightly of sweat and bourbon. It was when they both had their picnic in the spring among all the flowers and she had told him how happy he made her. When he looks at Sniper, their expression is almost uncannily the same and he has to blink a few times to try to recuperate. It’s jarring, but not in a bad way, more like of sudden flash of deja vu. 

 

Sniper places a hand on his shoulder to get him to focus, “You alright mate? Sorry if that freaked ya’ out at all. I didn’t mean it.” The last of his words almost fizzle out as they lose confidence in themselves. 

 

He looks around out of his fog and Spy realizes Sniper is sitting on the same side of the booth with him, he blinks again, “No! No, your fine. I apologize, it must be the drinks.” he emphasizes by swirling around the rest of his liquor in the glass.

 

Sniper lets out a breath and shakes Spy’s shoulder lightly, “You had me worried there for a second.” 

 

There’s an uncomfortable silence that follows that makes Spy even more on edge knowing he’s the reason for it. He stares at his glass, thinking of something, anything to say to Micky. Before anything comes to mind, Sniper rises out of the booth and brushes off his pants, “Well I suppose I’ll find somewhere to rest tonight at Tavish’s shop. I’m sure there’s a couch somewhere.” 

 

“You don’t have to go.” The words exit Spy’s mouth before he can even decide whether they might be a good idea to mutter or not. He decides to roll with it.

 

Sniper takes a moment, “It’s not like there’s a hell of a lot of room in here.” he gestures around the motorhome. 

 

“It’s not like there’ll be more room in Tavish’s place either.” Spy reasons, “And there’s some space if  we get out the sleeping bag and use the floor.” 

 

Sniper moves his head back and smiles, “You? Sleep on the floor?”

 

“This is a rare occurrence I assure you.” He says as Spy gets up to grab the sleeping bag from the closet.

 

Sniper watches Spy move Jeremy’s toys out of the way as he lays down the sleeping bag, “You sure? Cause I really can just find a spot at Tavish’s place.” 

 

“Micky if I wanted you to leave I would’ve said so.” Spy brushes his hair back out of his face as he stands back up, “Please stay.” 

 

Sniper melts and raises his hands in defeat, “No need to beg Spook, I’ll stay.” 

 

“Good.” Spy says, “Now if you don’t mind, could you hand me that extra pillow and blanket on top of the cabinet?” 

 

He laughs as stretches to grab said items, “Just a tad too short to grab them yourself?” 

 

Spy shakes his head with a smile, “Laugh it up all you want kangaroo man, you won’t be laughing when you have to sleep pillowless.” 

 

“Oh no, Spook!” Sniper teases, “Are ya’ telling me ya’ don’t share?” 

 

“What can I say?” He snickers as Spy changes into his sleepwear for the night, “You seem to bring out the worst in me.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait! Hope the long chapter makes up for it! Metrocon is over and a the table was a success so hopefully I'll get a another update out before school starts up again!! 
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me and I hope you enjoyed!!!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this one is a lot

The banging of the motorhome’s metal door has Sniper launching his body from the floor almost instantly. Years of being out in the wildness, having to be ready for any kind of attack leaves him with an incredible amount of instinct and skill, and the aggressive thumping noise only helps kick himself into a hyper awareness. 

 

He immediately looks behind him towards Sniper’s usual bed and finds it completely empty, spare the sheet Spy had tucked Jeremy into last night. Panic sets in, Jeremy is gone. 

 

Sniper shakes Spy’s shoulder beside him violently, “Spook, Get up.” his voice is kept low, but is still sharp and demanding, “The kid’s not here.” 

 

It takes a moment for Spy to truly wake up, but once the half second of grogginess is gone and he can actually process this information he’s quick on his feet, “What? Where did he go?!” 

 

Sniper sends a fast signal to Spy to be quiet as he looks over to the window to get a better view of the man now shouting outside their door.  He can’t get a good look without parting the curtain, but the shadow that casts from the sunlight outlines the man’s broad shoulders and sharp silhouette. Sniper can tell he’s a big man, and there's something beside him as well, but he can’t quite make out the shape.

 

Suddenly the banging stops and they can just barely hear the man’s raspy voice muffled from the outside, “You sure they’re in there?” 

 

A small voice, one that is unmistakably Jeremy’s, sniffles and responds quietly, “...Yeah.”

 

This is all it takes for Spy’s eyes to go wide as he pushes past Sniper and projectiles himself towards the door. This man - whoever he is - has his son and is unaware of the amount of pure force, pure rage that lays on the other end of the rusty motorhome door.

 

Spy flings the door open suddenly, his expression clearly angry, but it's much more than that- it's anger backed by years of experience killing men for much less offensive crimes than ever laying a hand on his son. It’s only a beat after that Sniper appears behind him, a very large knife drawn seemingly from nowhere, and it's only  _ a beat after that _ that they both see the dumbstruck faces of the large man and Jeremy staring back at them and realize that he isn’t in any immediate danger. 

 

Sniper lowers his knife awkwardly while Spy can’t help but pant out loud, the adrenaline too much for him as his heart still races. It’s the large man beside Jeremy that speaks first, his harsh voice much too loud, “Is this your son, sir?” 

 

Spy pushes back his hair out of face out of habit and swallows, Jeremy isn’t looking at him, but rather seems very interested in the ground around his feet. Spy walks out of the van and steps between the man and Jeremy, but tries to plays it cool despite having just thrown open the door ready to murder, “Yes, is there something I can help you with?” 

 

“Well,” The man starts, “I just found your boy running around in circles and throwing a ball against the shack over there. Says he was playing baseball.” 

 

Spy looks between the two of them again, clearly confused, “You’ll have to excuse me, what exactly is the issue here?” 

 

“For crying out loud!” The man nearly shouts, “Your kid doesn’t even know how to play a decent game of baseball! What kind of American father are you?!” 

 

Sniper lets out a sigh from inside the doorway of the motorhome, but Spy can only stare back at the man in blatant disbelief. It’s then that he notices the tiny american flags that decorate his collared shirt. Spy eventually rubs his face and changes the subject, “I’m sorry, who are you?” 

 

The man stand prouder, almost as if he’s about to salute Spy, “Jane Doe’s the name, sir. You’ll be happy to know that you can just call me Jane.” 

 

“Jane.” Spy repeats plainly and sighs, “Alright Jane well I apologize on behalf of my own lack of sports knowledge, so I hope you have a nice day. And I am completely serious when I say to stay away from this van and my son unless you’d like to earn yourself some prosthetics.” 

 

Jane stares stupidly at Spy when he ends his threat with a grin that's just three levels too friendly. He continues to stand there and twiddles his thumbs for a moment in thought before speaking again, “I was actually here to ask if you had a bat.” 

 

Spy’s starting to get annoyed, “What?” 

 

“You know, for baseball.” He simply responds, “Thought I could show him the game.” 

 

This makes Sniper actually let out a laugh and walks over to pat Spy on the back roughly when he speaks up from behind him, “Sorry mate, no bats here.” 

 

Jane just growls lowly in thought at that before he eventually gives up and reaches past Spy shakes Jeremy’s shoulder roughly with a smile, “Better luck next time Soldier. I got other missions to attend to anyway.” He turns on a heel and stomps a few paces away before he flips around back towards them again and yells, “You don’t happen to know if Tavish is here, do you?” 

 

Sniper raises a brow, forced into have to slightly shout back at him, “Why do you ask?”

 

“I came last night looking for him, but he wasn’t here.” Jane slouches slightly and scratches the back of his neck, “We were supposed to go for drinks.” 

 

Spy and Sniper exchange looks before Sniper pipes up again, “As far as I know he should be just sleeping in the back of the shop as usual.” 

 

Jane then actually does salute the two of them, “Thanks comrade. I’ll be back someday with a bat to finish this job.” 

 

Spy can’t help but think that in any other context that sentence would be incredibly threatening, but when spoken by Jane can only be a promise of a future migraine. He’ll have to tell Tavish to keep Mr. Jane Doe far away from them if at all possible. 

 

There's time spent over breakfast explaining why exactly it’s wrong to just run off in the mornings and talk to strangers, to which Jeremy explains that he didn’t actually leave the immediate area, and the stranger came and talked to  _ him _ . This loople and string of reasoning doesn’t change Spy’s mind however, and there’s a new rule put in place that when Jeremy’s not in the van he has to be with either Spy or Sniper. 

 

Sniper finishes his last bite of cereal and breaks into the conversation, “Why me?” he jokes.

 

“Don’t act like such a child.” Spy says simply as he get up to wash out his bowl, “You’re stuck here with us just as much as we’re stuck here with you.” The smile he flashes Sniper is one that promises trouble.

 

He raises from the booth to meet Spy at the sink, “That sure is a nice way of putting it.” He smirks at Spy before chugging the rest of his leftover milk. He finishes with a wipe of his sleeve and gently tosses the bowl into the small open washing machine.

 

Spy’s expression turns from happiness to slight disgust, “Were you raised in a barn?” He scoffs and he reaches in to grab Sniper’s bowl to wash in the sink, “You can’t just throw the dishes in without washing them! Who taught you how to live?” 

 

Sniper raises his hands in confusion, “Ain’t that what the dishwasher is for?” He reaches past Spy to turn the sink off mid wash. “You’re just wasting water! We do live in a van now you know.” 

 

The bowl sadly clinks back into the dishwasher with a sour look on Spy’s face and one hell of a side-eye, “You’ll have to talk to Tavish. I can’t live like this.” 

 

He laughs at Spy’s expression as he reaches for the detergent in the cabinet below the sink, “You’re a loon. It’s a dirty dish. And you’ll live.” Sniper starts the machine and walks over to his drawers to change his shirt. “But it wouldn’t hurt to ask I guess, it wasn’t like Tavish was exactly sober for most of last night. Maybe he can get those other guys outta’ there faster.” 

 

Jeremy perks up from the table, “You mean the big guys that lived downstairs in Tavish’s house? I think I saw them leaving.” 

 

“No kidding?” Sniper asks, “Well if that’s the case we’ll go check it out then.” 

 

When they’re finally dressed and outside the immediate vicinity of the van, it’s immediately apparent that someone is definitely moving. Spy is a tad embarrassed he didn’t notice the boxes stacked outside the front porch of  _ DeGroot’s Voodoo and More  _ this morning, but to his credit he was dealing with a strange circumstance that happened to also be named Mr. Jane Doe.

 

Walking up to the porch they watch a mountain of a man literally duck under the doorframe and hold the door open for another overly excited man as they shuffle out with plenty of more boxes in hand. Tavish saunters out behind them, wearing the same sweatshirt and sweatpants combo they found him in yesterday. When he spots the three of them, he waves them down with a sleepy smile, “I was wondering when you planning on finally gettin’ up! Come and help us sort out the Doc’s stuff! 

 

“It’s not just stuff!” The indignant man shouts as he places his boxes in the pile off to the right, his accent filtering through his words as he adjusts his glasses, “It’s all my lab equipment! My life’s work! And I’m not going to have a bunch of strangers throwing it around!” 

 

Tavish shifts his hips and huffs, “Fine, then you and the big man don’t need help with the rest?” 

 

He lifts a large hand to Spy, Sniper, and Jeremy in response, “Thank you, but I think my partner and I have it covered.” 

 

Said partner seemed to stare at Jeremy, then silently searched through the top box to his right before quickly walking over with a bag of gummy bears in hand. The man with glasses looks over and then trots behind him as they approach the three of them. 

 

The man with glasses looks to his partner awkwardly before sticking his hand out to Spy, “The name is Dr. Ludwig by the way.” He shakes Spy’s hand a little too fast, “And this is my partner Mikhal.” 

 

“Oh, hello.” Mikhal offhandedly mutters to Spy and Sniper before he bends at the knees to get face to face with Jeremy and silently offers him the bag of gummy bears with a quirk of an eyebrow. 

 

“I can have these?” Jeremy asks, nervous in front of Mikhail's unintentionally intimidating stare.

 

“Da.” He answers simply, and noticing Spy about to take them away, opens the bag and throws a few in his mouth, proving the candy is safe to eat. Spy inwardly notes that although Mikhal is quiet, he’s incredibly observant and would be quite the threat when backed up with his sheer body size and assumed strength. Jeremy however, is delighted and munches away happily after a quick thank you.

 

After some more quick greetings and background exchanges, they find that Dr. Ludwig and Mikhal have been on the run from the agency as well. As it turns out, Dr. Ludwig is bad at following orders, and Mikhal ran away with him. Although if he was being truthful, Mikhal did enjoy being away from the agency, even if it meant giving up the guns he used to adore. 

 

The Doctor adjusts his glasses again, “Before we go back to work though I did want to ask you a question young man.” His eyes gleaming, “If you could combine any two animals, what would they be?” 

 

A strange question Sniper and Spy note, but they watch Jeremy deep in thought before visibly lighting up a few seconds later, “Oh! A bear and a crocodile! Cause then you get the big crocodile teeth, but you could get switch their stubby arms with a bear’s!” 

 

“ _ Very  _ fascinating!” Ludwig replies almost too excitedly, “I haven’t heard that one before! Crocodiles do in fact have very stubby legs that can be improved upon!” He then turns to Mikhal seemingly talking to himself, “Do they have crocodiles in America? Although we are in Louisiana, I’m sure Alligators would suffice as a substitute.” 

 

Mikhal sighs, “This is fine.” 

 

“Of course there is the problem then of finding a suitable bear subject,” He rambles on, Sniper and Spy glancing at each other, now wondering what exactly this Doctor used to do for the agency, the man in question now walking back into the shack talking to his partner, “I mean, finding a black bear down here wouldn’t be _ impossibly  _ difficult, but what’s the point if we just give it tiny bear arms anyway?! I’ll have to put it on my to-do list.” He finally huffs before closing the door behind them. 

 

Tavish then stands in the doorway, “A buncha’ jokers, huh? A tad strange, but they’re good men.” 

 

“Strange is right.” Sniper mumbles as he grabs a handful of gummy bears from Jeremy’s bag. “Why are they packing up so soon?” He silently offers Spy some of the candy in his hand, to which Spy only responds with a disgusted look. Sniper shrugs and pops a red gummy bear in his mouth.

 

“I didn’t ask them to leave if that’s whatcha’ thinking.” Tavish says, “I didn’t even get the chance. I got a call last night from one of my guys in the agency that says he’s been sent out to search for two guys that ran off. Those two have been on the run for years so they know the drill.” 

 

Spy stiffens, “Should we be worried?” 

 

Tavish smiles, “Not unless you’ve been in a shitty Kentucky motel within the last month. Dr. Ludwig had gone for some black market deals, so they thought it was safe to head on out. I told them I’d speak with my buddy to see if I could wave him off, but they just decided to leave instead.” 

 

Sniper and Spy are silent, and it's Jeremy that speaks up, thoughtfully munching on candy, “Didn’t we stay stay in Kentucky?” 

 

Tavish’s smile vanishes, “Mick, you didn’t really-” 

 

“We did.” He interrupts, fingers massaging his eyes. 

“So that’s it then?” Spy responds clearly angry, “We just have to up and leave?!” 

 

“Now, now,” Tavish assures him, “I told the Mikhal and his loon that I could try to talk my buddy out of the job. He isn’t a usual in field work, and he’s really only on the trail for intel. Possibly torture.” 

 

“ _ Torture?! _ ” Spy spits out and turns to Sniper seriously, “We have to leave.” 

 

“Just let me call him.” Tavish holds Spy’s shoulder, “The phone in here is tapped so let's go to a pay phone and figure this all out.” 

 

They hop in Tavish’s small car and head out of town for a pay phone. Tavish has been in the agency long enough to know that there are plenty of eyes and ears around where he lives. The car ride is silent, with the exception of Jeremy still crinkling his candy bag occasionally. Spy knows in the back of his head that it’s too much sugar for him, but he has much bigger things on his mind- namely the possibility of starting his life all over again. In the car he tries to think of what could’ve been tracked, he used fake names at the motel and they hadn’t placed any calls since they left. The only grim conclusion Spy produces was that they were tracked via Sniper’s motorhome, which leaves him feeling like an idiot, because  _ of course _ they have tabs on all their operatives. 

 

Spy doesn’t tell them about his revelation. He stays silent in the back seat with his son and waits until they finally reach the payphone. Tavish punches in the number and exchanges greetings in the small space in front of the phone while the others wait patiently off to the side. At one point Tavish speaks up from the phone, “You didn’t happen to stay at the Bluegrass Motel did you?” 

 

Sniper just nods his head and turns away tapping his foot in thought. He keeps his voice low, “If we gotta go, where do you wanna head out to?” 

 

“Anywhere but Boston.” He responds with a tightness in his voice.

 

“Ah, yeah that makes sense.” Sniper nods again, “Sorry mate.” 

 

Spy turns his head quickly, “What makes sense?” 

 

“That you wouldn’t wanna’ go back to Boston.” He says quietly, “What with happened with your wife and all. And the rest of her boys.” 

 

Jeremy perks up at this, keeping his voice quiet, “You know about mom?” 

 

The question lingers for a moment before Sniper nervously looks at Spy, “Kinda. Just read about her a little bit.”

Jeremy pauses, glancing at his father that looks more than his normal levels of upset, but he’s curious, so he asks anyways, “Did you know what she was like?” 

 

“Jeremy please, can we talk about this later?” Spy’s voice strains. Today has been stressful enough, he would rather not talk about his deceased love. He’s trying to be patient, and he feels guilty for stopping Jeremy’s question, but his mind is racked with more than enough issues for today. 

 

The very small “Ok.” that comes from Jeremy is almost too quiet to hear.

 

On their way home Tavish explains the situation. As of now, Tavish’s friend had to follow his trail as per the agency’s request, but that didn’t mean he had to  _ find them _ . The plan so far isn’t an incredible one, rather it’s have him come down to Tavish’s shack and figure it out from there. The man apparently is a genius of sorts, but his lack of planning leaves Spy to worry. 

 

“Are you sure he line wasn’t tapped as well?” Spy asks. 

 

Tavish laughs behind the wheel, “Oh believe me, this man cherishes his privacy, and he’s more than smart enough to create some doo-dad to make sure he keeps it.” 

 

When they pull back into  _ DeGroot’s Voodoo and More _ , Dr. Ludwig and Mikhal have already cleared out, but what’s more interesting is the sad lump of a man that sits on Tavish’s doorstep, grocery bags at his sides with the same obnoxious american flag shirt he was wearing that morning. 

 

“Fuck.” Tavish spits as he pulls in and groans, “I forgot all about Jane.” 

 

Tavish sighs when he shifts into park and hops out of the car with a sympathetic smile on his face, “Janey! I’m so sorry!” 

 

Jane doesn’t move an inch. “I went to the market like you said. I got us ice cream.” He lifts the bag next to him, “It melted.” 

 

Tavish rubs his face and offers a hand to help Jane up when he finally reaches him, “Jane I’m really sorry, but this was important.” 

 

He takes a moment to looks back up at Tavish, his eyes a little sad, “Like last night?” Jane asks, sounding childish. 

 

“No.” Tavish shakes his head, “That was on me, and I’ll help pay you back for the ruined groceries. And I’m real sorry, but I really need to help these guys.” He then turns to Spy and Sniper by his car and addresses them, “You want me to watch Jeremy for a bit? I know there’s a lot to talk about.”

 

There is a lot to talk about, too much to talk about. He doesn’t quite trust Tavish yet, but he trusts Jeremy. Spy turns to him and lowers himself to his level, “You know how to get out of the store if you need to right?” 

 

He shakes his head, “Yeah. And I’ll come to you or Mr. Mickey if I need help.” 

 

“Just find me.” Spy says plainly, and he tries not to notice Sniper looking at the back of his head quizzically. He then slips a small pager in Jeremy’s pocket, “Press this if you need me ok?” 

 

Jeremy nods, gives his father a quick hug and runs off to help Tavish and Jane with some of the groceries. Spy had the pager for emergency situations, but with how things have been going lately, he might as well let Jeremy keep it on him at all times. 

 

When Sniper and Spy walk back to the motorhome in silence, they find a note taped to the door from Mikhal and the Doctor. A number to contact them at, along with what he assumes if Mikhal’s slanted writing that simply states: “Hope you enjoy the candy.” Spy folds the note into his pocket, and while definitely crazy, Ludwig and his partner seem like a valuable source to keep in contact with. 

 

When they finally enter the motorhome is when Spy finally starts asking questions. “How do you know about my wife?” He knows the answer himself, but he wants to make sure. 

 

Sniper sighs, “It was in your file I got when they hired me to kill you, all of it was.” 

 

Spy sucks in a shaky breath, “How much do you know?”

 

“I know she had boys before you were married. They didn’t have anything on Jeremy though, I wasn’t expecting him, obviously. I had called and said that you had a kid with you before I quit the job, but they had no idea Jeremy even existed.” 

 

He lets out a long breath, Spy isn’t quite sure what to say.

 

Sniper rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, “I’m real sorry about everything Spook. That must have been right awful.” 

 

There’s a silence between them for a moment before Sniper shifts and speaks up again, “Does Jeremy know about her? About her death?” 

 

Spy waves him off sadly and doesn’t look him in the eyes, “He knows that she was sick, that there was nothing they could do.” 

 

Sniper shakes his head in solemn agreement, tilting his hat up to comb through his hair with his hands, “Not much good Doctor’s can do after a poisoning like that.” 

 

Spy’s heart stops. He doesn’t think his ears are working quite right. His voice is so small when he locks eyes with Sniper again, “What did you say?” 

 

This throws Sniper completely off, “I, uh-” 

 

The information is slowly sinking in, forming wickedly inside Spy, “ _ Poisoned? _ ” 

 

“That’s what the file said.” Sniper responds quietly.

 

Spy starts to lose it, he raises his voice in anger and confusion, “That doesn’t make any sense! She- She died over months! They didn’t find anything in her autopsy or in any of her medical examinations!” 

 

Sniper backs away a step, because Spy is right in his face. He tries to keep calm, but Spy is shouting, his face red and ugly when he grabs Sniper’s shoulders, bunching his hands in his shirt, “Why didn’t they come after me?!” 

 

Spy searches Snipers face for answers, but he knows it isn’t fair, he doesn’t know either. Technically they did come after Spy, but it was years after her death with the few assassination attempts he’d run into before he’d met Sniper. 

 

Sniper clears his throat, and holds onto Spy’s shoulders as well, clearly uncomfortable, “According to the file they had just said that having two runaway spies together like that was incredibly dangerous to their security.”

 

“Two…?” Is all that Spy manages to get out. He’s physically shaking, this is too much at once, he tells himself that he has no idea whether he can trust Sniper completely or not, but the sympathetic eyes that stare back him give him all the proof he’d ever need. 

 

It takes a moment for Sniper as well, “You mean… you didn’t know she was spy?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLY MOLY THAT TOOK FOREVER TO GET OUT
> 
> and sadly, itll probably be a bit before the next one comes out as well, schools been rough lol
> 
> BUT i hoped you enjoyed!!! sorry this one was kinda sad and stressful!!! sometimes it be like that!


	6. Chapter 6

Her name had been  Renée Moretti.

  
  


 

Although she was more commonly known under any of the names that may have been Charlotte, Mary, Deborah, Sandra, Janet, Laura, Connie, Ann, or worst of all- Charlie. 

 

Separated from her parents and recruited early, she was possibly one of the best spies the Agency ever had. Renée was ruthless, cut-throat, and best of all- she didn’t look the part. She was beautiful, not in a ritzy elegance sort of way, but more like the hometown beauty that made you feel warm just looking at her. No one could ever have suspected the lovely woman that just served them a home cooked meal on their first date had laced their wine, and she frequently counted on that. 

 

Long before Jeremy was ever a twinkle in her eye, she had gotten pregnant with her first boy. A simple encounter really, a mission that required seduction that ended with the father dying in his sleep, gargling on his slit throat. She hadn’t known she was pregnant at first, it was an accident, but not necessarily a mistake. 

 

Renée secretly had always loved children, she loved the idea of having a family. Having someone to come home to that depended on you, loved you. It was nerve wracking, but she smiled amongst all of her stress filled tears, because  _ she was going to be a mother. _

 

Of course this isn’t something the Agency really condones, they can’t have they agents running off and starting families, making more liabilities that they need to be aware of. So Renée does what she does best and disappears, and unlike Spy, she does just a touch better job at it. 

 

The rest of her boys all have unique tales of their own, some of their fathers are hitman, others are actual boyfriends she picked up along the way that just didn’t work out. And while it is exhausting to have man after man enter her life, filled with promises of the future, Renée really was a woman that could handle just about anything handed to her. So a couple cowardice man never bothered her much. After all, she was a mother of a small pack of rowdy boys in the heart of Boston, and she had probably already seen much, much worse. 

 

When Spy had meet her, her name was Sydney. She had smirked at the unusual way his accent had repeated the name back at her.

 

“Just call me Sid.” she chuckled back at him.

 

Spy gave her his best smile, teeth dazzling and all, “Sid is then.” 

 

They had in fact met in the spring, but more precisely they had met at the small supermarket right off of Morton’s Street. Right between aisle five and six, trying to remember just  _ which _ brand of sugary two-for-one sale cereal was her boys favorite, with said boys at home with their oldest brother's’ watching them. Her last love interest had been a weapons tradesman with a side job in foreign relations. Not a good man for the Agency, but she didn’t particularly care about any of that. Renée had only cared when he laid a hand on one of her sons, and she had very calmly made sure no one would ever find his body. 

 

Which, ironically enough, was exactly the thing Spy happened to be looking for. This person of interest had seemed to just dissolve out of existence, and while there was a possibility that he had been taken out, he was sent to check on his whereabouts anyway. This woman was the first lead he had picked up on. 

 

She had reached for the off-brand Fruit Loops when she addressed him again, “So is there any reason for the introduction or are you just here to flirt?” 

 

“Mmm, that depends,” he hummed, “Do you have any other men in your life I should worry about?” 

 

“That just depends on the day of the week sweetheart.” She winked and half-whispered, “But I happen to be free for lunch on Friday.” 

 

Spy finds himself laughing, “That's awfully forward of you to offer to go out with a man you just met.” 

 

“Eh,” She shrugged and smiled, “You’re not the first or the last. And I have to admit, I’m sucker for a handsome face. ” 

 

“Oh, I’m handsome now am I?”

 

“A solid six out of ten.” She laughs at his expression of slight shock dissolving into his own laughter. 

 

He combs back his hair, “I think I may just have to take you up on that offer of lunch then if you would be so charmed.” 

 

She reaches into her purse for a pen and a scrap piece of paper, “Charmed? Not really. But I do enjoy a nice lunch with good company.” She hands him her number, “You’re pretty cute, I could do worse.” 

 

Spy smiles and tucks away her number in his jacket pocket, “I’ll take that as a compliment.” 

 

They part their ways there at the supermarket and meet again on Friday. And then they meet again, and suddenly Spy catches himself asking for another outing and realizes that he’s forgotten about the man he was sent out to check up on in the first place. He makes sure to bring it up, but when Renée bats her eyelashes and says that her ex left in the middle of the night because he found out about all of her boys, he falls for it completely.  _ Amatuer, _ she laughes to herself. 

 

But Renée ends up falling for this amatuer spy. She likes to chase, and he likes to be caught, which she notes is a very dangerous thing for a spy to enjoy. And while he might not be better than her at being a spy, that didn’t mean he was completely inept. Spy was clever in his own right, and Renée falls hard for the whole suave-frenchman act. Three dates in she wonders if it possibly is just an act, and comes to terms that he really might just be that extravagant. Not that she ever minded much.

 

So for last time, Renée truly does fall in love. She curses herself, it's as if it’s shes just a regular single mother without a body count into the double digits, and he’s just a regular guy, not a spy sent to kill an ex-boyfriend she already murdered a week prior to his visit. But she slowly watches him come to terms with it as well, and he doesn’t leave her, he stays. He stays with her through her pregnancy that she knows scares the wits out of him, and he stays despite his profession. She didn’t think she would meet the man she’d live the rest of her life while debating over clearance cereal, but life is funny like that. 

 

It’s when she feels herself dying that she knows she picked a good one. Of course the promises come, because they always do in a tragedy, but she somehow just knows that Spy will take care of the boys without her. That even if the worst happens,  _ when _ the worst happens, that it’ll be ok, because  _ he’s  _ there for them, and while like most things he probably won’t do a better job than her, she knows he’ll try his very best. 

 

And so she passes away. A wonderful life of a woman that had only ever wished for a full family that loved her, and in the end, she got it. They all had just wished she had more time to enjoy it all. 

 

And all of this, all of these memories, all of these moments, flood Spy’s vision when Sniper nervously udders those words, that  _ she was a spy _ . 

 

Spy can’t process it, he needs time, he needs fresh air because he feels like he’s drowning, so he shoves his way out of the camper van to step outside. His body aches from trying to take it all in, his throat burns with a feeling he can’t quite place, but recognizes it from the night of her death. 

 

The camper van door squeaks open moments later, Sniper’s guilt ridden face slowly revealed. He doesn’t step towards Spy, as he isn’t sure what to do. Sniper was never very good with people, and even worse with complex emotions. Life was just simpler off in the middle of nowhere at the other end of a gun. 

 

Sniper clears his throat in the silence, “I’m… sorry mate.” 

 

Spy doesn’t answer, he doesn’t even look at Sniper as he leaves. He walks towards town, and Sniper leaves the van to watch him walk, but doesn’t follow. He isn’t sure why, but he grips at his collared shirt and feels absolutely awful. 

 

Sniper takes a deep breath and realizes that he needs to tell Jeremy his father left so he doesn’t worry. The same wooden chimes that greet him into  _ DeGroot’s Voodoo and More _ sound much more foreboding this time rather than charming. 

 

Tavish, Jane, and Jeremy seem to playing poker at the store counter when he walks in, Jeremy swiveling in his stool to turn towards him, “What’s up Mr. Mickey? Where’s dad?” 

 

Tavish gives him a look over his cards, “Everything alright?”

 

“Yeah.” Sniper sighs when he takes the stool next to Jeremy, “He’s just taking a walk.”

 

“Oh.” Jeremy nods, “Ok.” 

 

Jane reaches for Jeremy and spins him back around, “The enemy can see your hand Soldier, be careful.” 

 

“Jane you don’t know how to play the bloody game anyway.” Tavish says. 

 

He points, “I know the enemy isn’t supposed to see your cards!” 

 

“Well, Yeah!” Tavish sputters.

 

“And if these quarters mean anything then me and the new recruit here are  _ way  _ better at poker than you are!” Jane yells. 

 

Jeremy chimes in and points, “Yeah!”

 

Tavish looks at the hands pointing at him, “Janey, I love ya’- I really do, but you tried to play a damn Uno reverse card.”

 

“Uno is a card game for men.” he defends, “This game just doesn’t make sense and is for cowards and pansies.”  

 

Jeremy chimes in helpfully again,  _ “Yeah!!!  _ I wanna’ play Uno!”  

 

Tavish sighs and rubs his eyes as he ignores the fist pump happening off to his side, “Mick, do you know when Charley is gonna’ get back at least?”

 

“Not sure.” He answers simply, looking at Jeremy’s cards.

 

“It’s ok.” Jeremy chimes in knowingly, “Sometimes Dad would take walks at night after I go to sleep and stuff. He’ll be back.” 

 

The other three share the smallest of glances, knowing that those “walks” of his probably involved a handful of hitmen deaths and side jobs. 

 

Tavish clicks his tongue and throws another quarter into the center of the counter, “Listen, just check on him in a bit or so, yeah? We wouldn’t want him to get lost in a new city like this.” 

 

His chest tightens. Truthfully, he doesn’t want to see Spy while he’s still upset, “Fine.” 

 

Jane looks over his cards thoughtfully, “Ha! Eat this Tavish!”, he slams his cards on the table, revealing a Royal Flush, “Go Fish!” 

 

Tavish squints at Jane’s shit-eating grin, “Jesus Christ Jane I swear I’m gonna’ kill ya’.” 

 

When the sun finally sets, Sniper isn’t sure where Spy wondered off to, but he does know that they’ve only ever been to a few places together, so he starts looking there. His worn down boots thump against the pavement as he glances into the bar they’d all gone for drinks at before. Across the street, he can just barely hear the music from another bar, and he recognizes it as the one that Tavish and him used to perform at in their jazz playing days.  _ Just a few minutes _ , he bargains with himself as he pushes open the painted navy blue door into the bar,  _ for old times sake. _

 

The bar is now run by a new owner, it makes the space a bit snazzier since he visited nearly a decade before, but it doesn’t make it any less nostalgic. He gives a grin at the loud band on stage, they’re suited up and playing  _ Moonlight Serenade _ he notes, an old Glenn Miller classic. An elderly couple dance slowly up front, but the few other patrons just sit and listen, the dreamy-like melody taking them somewhere else they’d rather be. 

 

Sniper glances at the wet bar before he leaves, but what he doesn’t expect is to see Spy sitting there. Icicles shoot through his spine, now that he’s actually seen him it’s too late, he has to actually deal with this, but damn if he wouldn’t give good money not to.

 

So Sniper sinks down into the stool next to him silently and knocks on the counter for a beer, he might be here a while. If Spy sees Sniper sit down next to him, he doesn’t show it. He just continues to stare into his drink and trace the woodgrain of the counter with his finger. 

 

Sniper takes a sip of his beer when it comes, “So…” 

 

“We don’t have to talk about it.” Spy quickly says, still not making eye contact, “I’d rather if we didn’t.” 

 

Sniper just nods, and they both dissolve into silence again, letting the music take control of their thoughts. He hates this. Sniper hates that he’s bad at this, and like many others in the bar, wishes he was somewhere far away.

 

Spy takes another swing of his drink before he starts to go through his wallet, “I’m leaving.” is all he says, placing the money gently on the counter before rising from the stool. 

 

Sniper isn’t sure why he reaches for him, it’s a gut reaction, something brought from years of fine-tuned instinct, but he does reach for him and he grabs his elbow before Spy turns to walk away. 

 

Spy finally looks at him, and Sniper sort of wishes he hadn’t. Spy looks more angry than he’s ever seen him, more so than even when he was at the other end of his knife. His sharp features look downright deadly under his stare, “Let go.” he spits out, yanking his elbow away before Sniper even had the chance to listen. 

 

Sniper watches Spy turn his back on him and beeline towards the exit, the heels on his shoes clicking loudly on the polished wood floors. Sniper takes a moment before he quickly shuffles a few bucks out of his pocket to pay off his drink and jogging after Spy.  _ I should just leave him be _ , a voice tells him,  _ everything will be alright if you just get ya’ bloody nose out of his business.  _

 

He catches Spy right outside the club and reaches agains to grab at his shoulder so he can turn him around, “Look mate-” 

 

Sniper can’t finish his sentence, Spy’s already turned and grabbed his wrist roughly, his breath right in his face spitting words out like venom, “I don’t know where you could have  _ possibly _ gotten the impression that I wanted you to follow me, but you are sadly mistaken.” he tosses Sniper’s wrist off to the side, his words wavering just the slightest, “I suggest you take your leave. I’ll be back in the morning.” 

 

Spy then turns to walk away again, and Sniper gets starts to get frustrated, “You just always run away from everything don’t you?!” 

 

The clicking from Spy’s shoes stop, the air being filled only with the muffled music from the inside the bar. Sniper wished he’d just stayed quiet, but it’s too late, the words are out there so he continues, “Here I am, trying my best to find your sorry ass in the middle of the night and you can’t even look at me! I get it alright, you lost someone, but guess what? We’ve all lost someone.” 

 

Spy turns slowly, his face twisted into something awful, “You  _ get it _ ?” he asks incredulously, “How could a man that has spent his entire life up to about a week ago pushing others away to fuck off in the middle of nowhere even  _ begin _ to get it?!”

 

“I-” 

 

“No, you don’t get it Mundy.” Spy traspasses into his personal space, “You won’t understand till everything is taken from you. Till you are left to rot without a moment's rest, and everything you had ever hoped for comes crashing down on you all at once unrelentlessly.” 

 

Sniper’s brows soften as he listens. He takes in deep breathes that are suffocating him with the stench of alcohol on Spy’s breath. 

 

“I had to sell everything I had of her for rent money!” He yells in Sniper’s face, his hand grabbing and tightening on his shirt collar, “And anything else I had left was burnt to a crisp! She’s just gone and I didn’t even get to say good-bye.” Spy’s breath shakes when he pushes Sniper away from him. “So don’t tell me that you get it. Don’t you dare tell me that you understand, when you don’t have a little boy that asks about her, that wishes she was here because he doesn’t even begin to understand what having a mother is like.” 

 

Sniper searches into the eyes of man that have been closed off to others because they have to be. He swallows, “Ok maybe I don’t get it. And maybe I’m just lucky because of that fact. But I do know what it’s like to run away, and I know what it’s like to be alone.” Sniper messes with his collar and readjusts it, “And I know now that it don’t have to be like that.” 

 

Spy sneers, “And what Bushman? Are you trying to give me some sentimental monologue that’ll suddenly make me grateful for this shit situation I’ve been thrust into? That somehow knowing that you and your band of nitwits suffocating me every moment of my life will make it all better?”

 

Sniper stands straighter, his voice harsh, “I’m trying to tell you that people still care about you asshole!” 

Spy doesn’t answer him, just stares as Sniper bites his lip nervously and continues, “Look you wanted answers about her right? I’m sorry, but a lot of questions have really unfair answers and I don’t know what else to say. I’m giving my best here Spook, I don’t know what you want from me and I don’t think you do either.” 

 

“Why did you come looking for me.” Spy quietly demands. 

 

Sniper paces in place, frustrated as he throws his hands up, “I don’t know! You have a kid back there that’s just fine with the fact his father left without a trace-” 

 

“So Tavish asked you to.”, Spy huffs, “You didn’t even care to come looking on your own accord.” 

 

“Of course I care!” He yells, “You think I don’t care about you Spook?!” 

 

Sniper is really pacing circles now, he’s not used to not knowing what to do with all this adrenaline, “I didn’t know what to do! So yeah, Tavish told me to find your ass, but that never meant that I don’t care. It’s not like I can help you with all of this, I have no  _ idea _ what I’m doing!”

 

“So what do you want me to do?!” Spy yells back, “You think that in one night everything will be ok? That I can just take this in stride and go on with my life?!” 

 

“I never expected you to!” Sniper shouts, “I just know that you left and you're mad and I don’t know what to do about it, but I had to do  _ something _ .” He takes off his hat and brushes through his hair, “God, ya’ know, you make it real hard to be on your side sometimes Spook.” 

 

“Oh, forgive me.” He snides, “I didn’t exactly have your comfort in mind when I was having a small mental breakdown.” 

 

“You know that's not what I meant.” Sniper points.

 

Spy shifts his weight, “Then what did you mean Mundy?” 

 

The music inside fades out and a small applause can be heard. The band assumedly goes on break, as there’s nothing other than the ambiance of the city to fill the silence now. Sniper rubs his face and swears inwardly, “I mean that I’m on your side Spook. I’m risking my life for your kid, and you still can’t find it in yourself to trust me and that's damn frustrating.” He shakes his head, “We’re a team now ya’ know. Me and you.” 

 

His heart is pounding at the end of his last sentence, but Sniper isn’t ready to understand why. Spy finally breaks, he’s been caught and he’s tired from running. His shoulders slump when he takes the smallest step towards Sniper, and Sniper just repeats the gesture till they meet in the middle. They stand like this, within each other's space, but not reaching out yet. 

 

Spy looks at the ground in silence, when he speaks up sounding defeated, his hand just barely grazes Sniper’s, “Thank you for telling me.” 

 

Sniper just breaths out audibly, his hand flexes nervously from the contact, “You can see her file whenever you want ya’ know. There’s, uh… A picture of her inside if you want it.” 

 

Spy takes a moment to for the smallest of nostalgic smiles to form and looks up to Sniper, “I would like that.” 

 

“Good.” Sniper sighs, “You ready to head back then?”

 

“Not really.” Spy admits, “But we have to walk back anyways, so we might as well start.” 

 

“Could always call a taxi.” Sniper suggests.

 

Spy let out a small laugh, “I think it’d be nicer to walk don’t you think?” 

 

“Sure.” Sniper agrees. Honestly, he doesn’t have a preference, but Spy needs time to cool off he figures. 

 

So they walk home in stride, the muggy air having cooled from the day but still remaining thick on their skin. If he was being honest, Sniper would’ve said that Spy still looked the worst he’d ever seen him. Glancing over, his hair is sticking out where he was very obviously messing with it earlier and his clothes are disheveled. It’s interesting seeing Spook so vulnerable, he looks like a regular person rather than a well-oiled killing machine decorated with gentlemanly charm. 

 

Spy catches his glances when they walk, “I must look positively awful.” he says as he tries to slick back his hair. 

 

“It’s understandable.” Sniper simply says, “It’s been rough night.” 

 

A shaky laugh escapes Spy, “I’d rather not look that part if it’s at all avoidable.” 

 

“You, uh…” He starts nervously, taking off his hat, “Want my hat or something? For your hair I mean.” 

 

Spy stops and smiles widely at him in disbelief, “You think I’d want to wear your sweaty cowboy hat to look  _ better? _ ” 

 

“Well you don’t gotta’ say it like that.” Sniper gets embarrassed and plants the hat back on his own head, “It was just an idea.”

 

Spy laughs and shakes his head, “I appreciate the sentiment, but I’m afraid that fashion disaster looks much better on you than it ever would on me.”

 

Sniper isn’t sure whether that was a compliment or not, but he feels his face go hot all the same. “Good to see your back to normal then.” He teases. 

 

“Not normal, but much better.” Spy counters.

 

“I didn’t even get two sips into my beer ya’ know.” Sniper quips, “Had to chase your sorry ass and all.” 

 

Spy laughs, “How unfortunate. Perhaps I can compensate you another time when I actually look presentable rather than possibly homeless.” 

 

Sniper pats Spy on the back with a laugh, leaving his hand to rest on his shoulder comfortably. “Technically speaking, you  _ are _ homeless. But I won’t say no to a drink if you’re paying.” 

 

Spy just hums, he still has a lot on his mind. He may have calmed down for now, but things are far from being back to whatever normal used to be. Spy walks with his warped reflections in the slightly damp sidewalk staring back at him, but the warped figure directly to his right makes him feel just a bit more comforted, and the heaviness of the arm around his shoulder is reminiscent of the feeling of a hard battle won. He stuffs his hands in his pockets and is a little guilty at just how much he enjoys the sensation. Sniper breathes in deeply the humid night air and Spy can feel it while he’s pressed against him like this, and just for a moment, everything isn’t nearly as bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy thanksgiving!!!!! I really tried to get another chap out before winter break (as school is and always will be crazy) 
> 
> Also things are gonna start heating up! The climax is coming my dudes! 
> 
> hope you enjoyed!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things could get better, but they probably won't :/

The night Spy had run off frustrated with the world had uneventfully ended with him crashing on Tavish’s couch in the basement with his son, which left Sniper alone with his thoughts in the campervan. 

 

This wouldn’t be the first or last time Sniper would listen to the quiet rain hit the windows of his van while his brain was visiting somewhere else entirely. He spends the evening staring at nowhere in particular, reevaluating his current life choices. On one hand, this was the first time in many years he had something akin to the beginnings of a family \- which if Sniper was honest, just the very word made his body lurch in ways he couldn’t describe. While on the other hand, he was actively being pursued by an organization of assassins aiming to kill all of them _and_ there was an active warrant for their arrest. 

 

The little voice in Sniper’s head that tells him to run away, just like it did with Tavish all those years ago, comes back in full force. He tries to glance at his car keys from afar, but the view of the table is blocked by Spy’s coat that hangs on the chair in front of it. Sniper never believed in the concept of omens, but it does make him smile a little, as Spy really was making  _ everything _ in his life harder for him whether he knew about it or not. Although to be fair, Sniper wasn’t quite sure if he’d want it any other way. 

 

So Sniper turns back around, takes in a deep breath, and eventually finds some rest. The rain lulls him to sleep, and while resting alone in his bed for once is a nice change, he secretly wishes he was cramped on the floor sharing an unfolded sleeping bag with a friend. 

 

That morning is fairly quiet. Thankfully, Spy is in a much better mood, and the three of them (along with the enthusiastic help of Jane) move their very few things into Tavish’s basement. Spy is hesitant to settle in somewhere, especially with information that another one of the Agency’s men on their way to their location, but Tavish trusts the man thats coming, and it isn’t like they have an abundance of belongings anyway. The excitement Jeremy shows over having his own room again, despite the disappointing size, helps put Spy at ease as well.

 

In the afternoon they walk the town, Tavish tells them that he has an important call to make while the others “get some fresh air” as Sniper puts it. Tavish closes and locks the shop with a simple, “It’s not like customers actually come to this shack anyway. All I ever get are fellas like  _ you. _ ” 

 

They stop at a small ice cream parlor at both Jeremy and Jane’s insistence, and as Jane says with a pointed finger and a smirk, Tavish still does _ technically _ owe him one. All in all, Tavish is a man of his word, so he pays for their desserts gladly before excusing himself to make his call at the nearest payphone. 

 

_ It’s almost surreal how normal everything seems _ , Sniper thinks to himself over a spoonful of whatever kind of chocolatey mess of an ice cream bowl Jeremy got. He gives Sniper a side eye that rivals even his father’s, and Sniper backs off with an amused huff.

 

Spy sits on the other side of Sniper and breathes in deeply, and keeps his voice low, “Doesn’t it seem too quiet to you?” 

 

Sniper glances to Jeremy on his other side, who is currently too preoccupied with arguing with Jane over the superior flavors of ice cream. He looks back at Spy, “It doesn’t seem too quiet to me actually.” he laughs.

 

“You know what I mean.” Spy tries to say seriously, but breaks into the smallest of smiles, “This all has been just too… quaint. Comparative to the last week or so we’ve had I mean.” 

 

Sniper pauses for a moment, “Well,” he swallows, “last night was a lot. But maybe things are getting better?” 

 

Spy raises an eyebrow, “And what do you mean by that?” 

 

“No one has tried to kill us today, so that’s a start.” He points at Spy.

 

“Certainly so.” He laughs, “But then again the day isn’t over quite yet.” 

 

“You planning on finally taking me out Spook?” Sniper asks with a smile and a nudge of his shoulder. 

 

Spy’s smile moves across his face cooly, “My life certainly would get a lot quieter without you around now wouldn’t it?” 

 

“Harsh.” He reaches his spoon over to Jeremy’s ice cream again, the plastic spoon clacking with another as he’s swatted away.

 

“Hey! Get your own!” Jeremy scoots away from Sniper and hovers over his treat protectively, tongue stuck out in defiance. 

 

Sniper focuses his attention back on Spy, and for awhile, they chat. Holding conversations like this, ones that don’t involve life or death, are hard for Sniper to maintain. But he finds that when talking with Spy, it’s well worth the effort. Chatting with Spy like this isn’t _ easy _ , as nothing with Spy can ever be easy, but there's a sort of casualness to it that gives Sniper the confidence he doesn’t normally have in conversation. 

 

“That bar right there.” Sniper points to the brick building on the corner, it's sides having been painted with murals that have been long chipped and washed away with age. “Ever since I first came here I always wanted to play there.” 

 

Spy hums, “It would be just you and Tavish playing then I’d assume?”

 

He doesn’t know how to start his sentence, so he pauses, “More like anyone could play there ya’ know? Like we could just play music and drink and let all those blokes that never got to play a chance.” 

 

“Even the terrible ones?” 

 

“ _ Especially _ the terrible ones.” Sniper gives a small smile, “Ever hear a bad sax’ solo while your off your ass drunk? It’s a hoot.” 

 

“Don’t swear!” Jeremy chimes in, mouth full of ice cream. Of course, he had only started this correction of language since he’d been caught saying the dreaded f-word this morning by his father. 

 

“Oh right. Sorry about that kiddo.” Sniper smiles. 

 

Spy laughs at his son and gets back on topic, “So you want your own bar?”

 

“I guess that’s right.” Sniper says, “Never thought about it like that though.” 

 

“And why’s that?” 

 

“I don’t like calling shots.” He responds, “Always been better at taking orders rather than giving them.” 

 

And with a knowing hum from Spy, the train of thought ends there. They don’t sit in comfortable silence for very long though, as Tavish finally comes strolling back from his phone call hunched over and staring at the ground. 

 

“Took ya’ long enough.” Sniper says when Tavish plops down beside Jane.

 

“Oh haha,” He mocks, “I don’t see you making important phone calls so shut yer’ trap Mick.” 

 

Now Tavish was a man that dealt with stress fairly easily. He was the sort of guy that could really roll with the punches, able to take hits with a stunning smile and a booming laugh. From the time Sniper had spent with Tavish, there had never been a situation in which he hadn’t been able to take a deep breath, a swing of scotch, and laugh off whatever problem had faced him at the moment. Even when dealing with Sniper’s years long abandonment, Tavish had taken it all in stride and helped a long time friend. 

 

So when Tavish snaps at him, Sniper’s realizes how serious this phone call might have been. “Everything alright?” He asks tentatively. 

 

“I-” Tavish starts, running his hands down his face and sighing, “Yes and no.” 

 

That gets their attention, “How so?” Spy asks, his tone business-like and reserved. 

 

“I don’t want to get too detailed, as we got the fella’ here.” Tavish gestures to Jeremy, “But my friend is gonna’ be a tad late, as he had some business to attend to, but he’ll be here tomorrow afternoon.” 

 

“Well that’s not too bad.” 

 

“After we talked, he had me call Dr. Ludwig and Mikhal back here.” Tavish rubs his face again and stares straight at Sniper, hoping he’ll understand the severity of the situation, “Shit’s really gonna hit the fan when he gets here Mick.” 

 

Sniper just swallows, and before the space of time can truly be considered a silence, Jeremy perks up from his ice cream, only half listening to the current conversation, “ _ Ooooooh! _ Tavish swore!”   

 

When they walk home Jeremy fills the uncomfortable silence with childish chatter. While generally nonsensical or annoying, the most of them find the long speeches about whatever topic Jeremy wanted to touch on a godsend, as it meant they didn’t have to talk about whatever information Tavish got over the phone. So Jeremy, with no limits on his chatterbox, talks about  _ everything. _

 

Thankfully, Jane is a better listener than one would expect (rather its his comprehension of information that sometimes gets screwy instead of actual listening skills) and so he mostly keeps up conversation with Jeremy. Tavish however, stays relatively silent. It’s out of character for him, and it only helps to put Sniper more on edge. 

 

The wooden wind chimes greet them when they enter Tavish’s shop, and he immediately turns to Jane and places a hand on his shoulder. “Jane can ya’ watch the kid and the shop for me? It shouldn’t be for more than an hour or so.”

 

Jane up to this point hadn’t really noticed Tavish’s extreme mood change, but when he grasps his shoulder, he can see in his eyes that something's wrong. His voice comes out softer than he means it to, as Tavish’s expresion catches him completely off-guard, “Yeah, of course.” He pauses, “Is there anything more I can do?” 

 

Tavish smiles, “No that’ll be enough. But thanks Janey.” He then turns to Spy and Sniper over his shoulder and starts walking towards the back basement stairs, “You two come with me.” 

 

Surprisingly enough, the old squeaky stairs and darker atmosphere doesn’t put any of them more at ease. Rather, they all take a seat in the old couches in silence, keeping a distance from each other and waiting for someone to speak up. 

 

Tavish takes in an audible breath, “The man sent by the Agency here after you, my friend, is probably the smartest man I’ve ever met.” No one speaks up so he continues, “Now I may not trust him like I trust you Mick, but I do know he’s a good man and he said he’ll help us. So I trust his word.” 

 

“Is there any chance we would know him?” Spy interrupts. 

 

“Maybe.” Tavish says, “He goes by Dell Conagher, does that ring any bells? He currently works as a weapons engineer and information specialist.” 

 

The two of them think for a moment, but the name doesn’t seem familiar. It’s nothing out of the ordinary however, as with an agency with so many assassins it’s normal to have strangers among you. 

 

Tavish continues, “Anyway, the point is he told me about our current situation. And the long and short of it is that they know everything. Just assume we’ve been watched. Dell doesn’t know how exactly they’ve gotten all their info yet, but at the least he  _ does _ know that they haven’t bugged the shop which is good.” 

 

He then pauses for a moment to let that all sink in before clearing his throat, “When Dell gets here, the Agency is going to be following after him.” He breathes a shaky sigh and closes his single eye, “And when they come, they are going to take all of us.” 

 

Spy’s heart doesn’t beat in that moment, his brows furrowed in confusion and palms sweaty, “Excuse me?” 

 

“We’re only gonna’ have about a day between Dell’s arrival and the Agency’s.” Tavish explains, “I called Dr. Ludwig and Mikhal, as we are going to need them. Dell says he has a plan.” 

 

“And are we just going to believe him?!” Spy spits venomously, throwing his arms in the air, “You said yourself that you don’t know this man as well as you would like! He works for the Agency Tavish, of course he wants us captured, that’s his damned job!”

 

Sniper finally speaks up, quick with his words, “We can run. We ran once, we can run again.” 

 

“And exactly how far do you think a days travel do you think will get us?” Tavish asks.

 

“Far enough.” Sniper replied angrily, “We can take a plane or-” 

 

“And what then Mick?” Tavish snaps, “ There are operatives all around the globe, where exactly do you want us to hide?” 

 

“I-”

 

“The  _ only _ reason we’re alive right now, is because she wants us alive.” He says, “You both have caused such a ruckus that the boss has actually taken a notice to you herself.” Tavish then turns to Sniper, his face stern, “And Mick I heard you  _ called her? _ When exactly did that seem like a good idea?!”

 

Spy snaps his face to Sniper’s, his expression filled with angry disbelief, “You _ what?! _ ”

 

Sniper run his hands through his face and hair and groans, “Oh god that… that was the night before the apartment burned. I wanted to call off the job.” 

 

The air is still and electrified. No one seems to know what happens next, so it’s left to Tavish to speak up again. “There’s no use crying over it now.” He says, “While Dell did say he had a plan, he didn’t give me the details over the phone. But essentially, we’ll be making a deal.” 

 

“What kind of deal?” Spy asks, his disdain dripping from each word.

 

“Like I said I don’t know.” Tavish admits, “But he really believes that this plan will right everything that’s been tangled for years.” 

 

“This is insane.” Spy finally says, “This is going to get us all tortured and killed.” 

 

Tavish doesn’t answer him, as he doesn’t have a good answer to give. Again they just sit there, minds racing but mouths quiet, all of them coming to a common understanding that there's a very high chance that they are living their last days. Tavish stands up, the springs of the old couch creaking and his boots shuffling on the floor seemingly so loud in the quiet environment. He swallows, “With all of that said, if you two aren’t here in the morning Dell will still have to find you. I don’t want to say its checkmate but-” He sighs, “I think Jane and Jeremy should lay low in town for awhile.” 

 

Spy opens his mouth to protest, but Tavish lifts his hand to stop him, “It just a suggestion. I’ll be upstairs, you both are welcome to stay down here for bit if ya’ need it.” 

 

And with that, Tavish climbs the stairs back up to the main shop, leaving Spy and Sniper with nothing but the deep thumping of his boots hitting the wooden steps and the sound of their own breath. Spy lowers his head into his hands and stares at the space in front of him. The silence is suffocating, but neither of them can muster up anything to make the situation better. It’s hard to come up with something helpful to say once you’ve realized you’ve been outsmarted and caught. 

 

“I…” Sniper starts, clearing his throat, “I still say we should go.”  

 

Spy just looks at him, his expression like that of a mangy cat, “And go where? Do you happen to have  _ another _ spot in mind that’ll get us all killed?” 

 

Sniper feels the pang of guilt hit his heart, “I didn’t know-” 

 

“Of course you didn’t.” Spy snaps at him. He then pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a deep breath, “I…  understand you didn’t know this would happen. But it did.” 

 

Sniper tries to move closer to him on the couch, “What should we do then?” 

 

Another deep sigh escapes Spy as he refuses to make eye contact with Sniper, “As much as I hate to admit it, I think we need to see what this man has to say. If he really thinks we have something valuable enough to bargain the Agency with, then that's something worth looking into.” 

 

“Ok.” Sniper just nods slowly, his voice raspy and low. 

 

Spy finally stares back at him and while he’s still upset, Spy just looks lost more than anything. “Yeah?”

 

“Yeah.” Sniper repeats. He boldly leans over, placing his elbows on his knees while he sits and outstretches his hand out to Spy as an offering. “It’ll be fine.” He says and he tries to sound positive, but Sniper’s still shaken and the words come out hallow. 

 

Spy takes a moment before closing the space between them and grasping the others hand. It’s not until their fingers interlock and Spy can feel Sniper’s warmth that he realizes just how much he needed this. Spy takes a moment before startup up again, this time his voice much lower because of the closer distance between them, “I think you should stay with Jeremy.” 

 

Sniper doesn’t answer him. He just glides his calloused thumb over Spy’s hand, so he continues, “Someone has to keep him safe and… I trust you.” His words end with him leaning into Sniper’s body, not looking at his face. His words are muffled into Sniper’s shoulder, but are still clear in the quietness of their surroundings. “If I died, I know that you would watch over him.”

 

“You know I can’t do that.” Sniper’s voice feels deeper when Spy is this close, even when it gets to a half-whisper like it is now.

 

Spy doesn’t move, “But what if you had to?” 

 

Sniper sighs and turns away from him, “It won’t come to that.” 

 

“You can’t say for sure.” 

 

Spy’s right of course, there is absolutely no way that Sniper can say truthfully that everything will work out. They don’t even know the battle plan yet, and they are already preparing for the worst. Sniper takes a moment to search for his words, but nothing especially helpful comes to mind, “Jeremy will be ok with Jane like Tavish said. He’ll make sure he’s alright.” 

 

Spy just hums. It doesn’t sound like he completely agrees, but it’s rather it’s more reminiscent of someone in deep thought. Like a true spy, he’ll be silently calculating every risk till his very last breath. From the perspective of a man that has lost about everything that had meaning to him, the idea of losing the last two pulses of life that keep his own blood pumping is terrifying. 

 

He swallows, his throat dry. “If you die, I’ll fucking kill you.” 

 

Spy physically feels Sniper’s body let out a tiny laugh more than he hears it. Sniper can’t look down at him, he feels too exposed in this moment when he lets himself grin. He finally releases Spy’s hand, throwing his arm over his shoulder and bringing him close, his face pressed into the side of Spy’s neck. Even in this moment, he still can’t look at him, “I know you will Spook.” 

 

“I mean it.” Spy says again while huddled close, “Don’t you dare leave me.” 

 

“I’m not going anywhere.” Sniper says this with such certainty that he even believes it himself. It’s surprising how easily the phrase slips through his lips, how his hand naturally brushes Spy’s back in hopes that the gesture is comforting to him. Sitting here together like this brings back old memories for the both of them, and yet it’s a unique feeling all on it’s own. 

 

Spy is the one to finally break them apart, a small push to Sniper’s chest that signals him to sit up. Ever so briefly, he’s able to see the his full face. Spy would’ve expected Sniper to be the type of man that would hide his true emotions from others out of fear of intimacy, but this doesn’t seem to be the case. 

 

When Spy locks eyes with him, Sniper is wearing the happy expression he had shown many times before. It was the same look in his eyes he had seen while sharing breakfast in the campervan, the same strange gentleness that he would sometimes wake up in the mornings next to; all the while keeping his quirks, his lip slightly upturned in his grin showing his teeth ever so slightly. 

 

In that brief moment of time, when the familiar sinking feeling and skip of a beat hits Spy, he realizes that Sniper’s been wearing his heart on his sleeve this whole time. There’s never been a insincere moment with him, and everything up to this point has been brutally genuine. He had assumed that being away from people would’ve made Sniper adverse and dishonest to them, but it turns out to be just the opposite. His inexperience with people had left him with very little practice in the art of lying. 

 

Sniper speaks up again, “You wanna’ go back upstairs now?” 

_ Oh God, no.  _ The voice in his head groans, but Spy’s had plenty of practice lying over the years, so he smiles and says, “Sure.”

 

The conversation Tavish has with Jane about taking Jeremy to a nearby hotel is a loud one. Spy and Sniper only catch bits and pieces of it from the counter inside the shop, busying themselves with a game of poker with Jeremy. Jane was a loud man, and while it didn’t sound like he was yelling at Tavish outside on the porch, it did sound like he was upset about the whole idea for a while. Eventually, the muffled argument comes to an end and the two of them come inside, Jane very poorly hiding his disappointment with the whole situation.  

 

Jane plops down next to Jeremy in the folding chair he’d laid out for himself earlier and picked up his previously abandoned hand of cards. Tavish is right behind him beelining for his room in the back, and when he passes by Jane he tries to put a hand on his shoulder only to be promptly shrugged off. No one acknowledges this awkward reaction, and they keep playing. 

 

When Tavish finally reaches his room, the phone behind the counter rings, “Mick, can ya’ get that?” He yells. 

 

Sniper uses his long arms to just reach over the counter in front of him and pick the phone up, and he’s immediately greeted with angry yelling. 

 

“Do you know how much in gas you’re costing us?!” The voice yells with a suspiciously familiar german accent, “We were halfway through Arizona before you told us to turn around!” 

 

“Alabama.” A deep voice behind him patiently corrects.

 

“Oh right.” The first voice pauses, “We were halfway through  _ Alabama _ before you told us to turn around!”

 

“Ludwig?” Sniper asks, the name causing everyone else in the room around him to perk up. 

 

“Ja.” He grumbles, “Be grateful Mikhal was driving, or we would’ve been in Montana by now.”

 

“You drive too fast.” Mikhal chimes in behind him, “Is dangerous.”  

 

This makes Dr. Ludwig laugh over the phone, “Oh well, it can’t be helped I guess.” 

 

Sniper interrupts, “Wait, where  _ are  _ you right now?” 

 

“Ach, that is a good question isn’t it?” He pauses, his voice slightly muffled, “B ä rchen, do you mind running inside the station and grabbing me a map? Danke.” 

 

“No, I mean where are you calling from?” Sniper clarifies.

 

“I just told you didn’t I?!” He says annoyed, “We are at a gas station! Is gas always this expensive? I wouldn’t know, Mikhal never lets me fill the tank anymore. Or at least not since--” 

 

“Uh, Dr. Ludwig?” Sniper interrupts, clearly confused, “This is a nice call and all, but is there a reason for it or-?” 

 

“Oh, right!” His voice loud over the phone, “Mikhal thought it’d be a good idea to check in with Tavish, just tell him we’ll be arriving there around early morning tomorrow.”

 

Sniper sighs, “Alright I’ll let him know. Thanks.” 

 

“You’re lucky I have my medical equipment on hand at any point in time.” Ludwig says pointedly, “When I get there we can finally put to rest this old myth for good.” 

 

Tavish finally comes back from changing into his sleeping cloths for the night, and when he walks back into the main shop Sniper looks at him when he addresses Ludwig again, “...Myth?” 

 

It takes Tavish a moment, but once he cycles through what Sniper just said to whoever could possibly be on the phone, he comes to the right answer and his eyes go wide. He tries to stay quiet so his protests can’t be heard over the phone, but his voice is strained as he reaches to grab the it from Sniper’s hands, “Wait, Mick! Just let me-!”

 

The Doctor laughs, very audible to the both of them, “Oh, I wonder if they have the myth of Bigfoot in Australia? That must’ve been quite the shock for you to find!” 

 

Tavish finally snatches the phone away and he laughs unconvincingly, “Ohohoho, it was!” he booms, “Mick thought it was some kinda’ bear at first, it was hilarious really! Couldn’t believe we caught him myself!” 

 

Sniper gives Tavish a pointed look, “What’s going on?” 

 

Tavish just throws up a hand, “Look Lud, I gotta’ go. Lot’s of preparing to do and all that ya’ know? Say hi to Mikhal for me!” And right before he slams the phone back down on it’s base they can hear the Doctor giving a quick confused goodbye. 

 

The ruckus of the phone call leaves all eyes on Tavish. He looks around the room at all of them, and takes breath, “I can explain.” 

 

He says this mostly to Sniper, who seems to be the only other person that has any semblance of what's going on. Sniper just stares back at him angrily, arms folded and waiting. 

 

“I--” Tavish starts, a hand at the back of his neck, “-might have stretched the details a  _ tiny _ bit when I called Ludwig and Mikhal.” 

  
  


Sniper’s eyebrow raises and Spy finally speaks up, “So what exactly did you tell them?” 

 

“Oh, you know,” He waves his hand, “I knew that Ludwig would  _ never _ put his life on the line for us, and Dell was set on having him and Mikhal be here so I just told a white lie is all. Just something small as an incentive.” 

 

“So you told him we caught bigfoot.” Sniper deadpans. 

 

“He’s a man of science Mick!” Tavish scrambles, “It’s the only thing I could think of to get the bastard back down here!” 

 

“Language!” Jeremy chimes in, very quickly reminding everyone that he is still in the room. 

 

“ _ Merde. _ ” Spy pinches his nose. It’s sort of an indescribable feeling trusting some of your fate to a man that would seriously fall for a bigfoot scandal. “Let’s… just get Jane and Jeremy settled and then we can discuss this in more detail.”

 

Jeremy looks to his dad, grabbing his sleeve, “Wait, what’s happening?” 

 

“We’re being kicked out of the party.” Jane answer hims sourly, still pouting.

 

Tavish sounds exasperated, “Jane for the last time, I told ya’ there's no damn party!” 

 

“That sounds awfully like someone that’s trying to hide a party.” He counters.

 

Jeremy then tugs on his father’s sleeve again, “Dad, I wanna go to a party-” 

 

Spy opens his mouth to interrupt, but Sniper beats him to it, “There’s no party!” He yells, getting everyone's attention and points, “Spook, you get Jane and Jeremy situated. And Tavish, we need to talk.” 

 

For what felt like the hundredth time this day, Tavish rubbed his temples and shrugged, “Sure, yeah. That’s fair.” 

 

The two walked back out onto the porch silently, the wooden chimes loudly announcing their exit. The door slams behind them, and Sniper speaks through his teeth, “You  _ lied  _ to them?!”

 

Tavish huffs, “Mick, Dell said he needed them down here and it’s not like Dr. Ludwig and Mikhal care about us. 

 

“But he cares about  _ Bigfoot?!” _ He seethes, “He cares that much about being right about a myth?!”

 

“He’s bloody insane!” Tavish raises his arms, “He’s a genius, but he’s out of his mind and a narcissist.” 

 

Sniper sighs, rubbing his face, “So you didn’t tell them they could be arrested.” He lifts his hand, “Sorry, that they  _ will _ be arrested.”

 

A short silence, then his voice cracks out, “...Well, no.” 

 

They both need a moment to take it all in. Spy’s warning about Dell rings through Sniper’s head again, the fact that he’ll have five tradiors agents in one place for the Agency to find and there’s almost nothing he can do about it at this point.

 

Tavish speaks up again, “I see it like this, if they do their part and everything works out, we’ll all be free. It’s a win for everybody.” 

 

Sniper shakes his head and huff, “Dell told ya’ that?” 

 

“God Mick,” Tavish gets mad at him, “Are you not even willing to try? You think I put my life on the line for you and every other MIA agent that’s ever come here for nothing?!”

 

He doesn’t know how to respond to him, so Sniper just shakes his head again in disapproval and looks away. Tavish moves back into his vision to look him in the eyes when he speaks, just like he did when they fought years ago on the same porch. “Even if you got out of here, even if everything went ok, you know in your heart that they’re gonna track you down again.” He makes sure Sniper is looking at him when he points towards the shop, “And the proof of it, is the father with his kid sitting at the counter right over there. So if you’d like to run around your entire life, go ahead. The vans waiting for ya’ in the driveway.” 

 

Sniper breaths out a shaky breath when Tavish’s words lash into him, the truth of them digging deep into his soul. He can’t even defend himself, as the door opens right in front of them and they are interrupted by the angry mass of a human being that is Jane and his large sports bag. 

 

“Come on, soldier!” He yells, pushing past everyone on the porch, unlocking Tavish’s small silver car and plopping his bag into the trunk. “Hurry it up! We don’t got all day.” 

 

“Coming!” Jeremy bursts through the door, the chimes protesting loudly as he jumps down the steps and runs to the car. 

 

Jane opens the backseat door for him, flicking the car keys at Tavish, “I’m taking the car.” He says matter of factly, “It’s not like you’ll need it.” 

 

“Drive safe.” Is all Tavish says. He knows Jane is mad at him, but maybe one day he’ll understand why everything had to play out the way that it did. 

 

And just like that, the driver side door is closed and the car pulls away. Sniper tries to wave to Jeremy goodbye, but when the car turns he can see that Jeremy isn’t even looking-- he’s fiddling with his seatbelt. So Sniper slowly lowers his hand down as he watches the small dust trail form behind the car as it drives away. 

 

Sniper scolds himself for being so distracted, for getting so caught up in the moment that he couldn’t even catch Jeremy’s attention to say his goodbyes. He swallows roughly, a pain in his throat that makes him uncomfortable sits there, and he looks at Tavish. He knows he’ll understand. 

 

And he does, Tavish just sighs and pats Sniper on the back as they end their conversation and head back inside. Spy now sits alone by the counter, his formed slumped over in the old fold-out chair. It’s the image of not a broken man, but rather one that’s been mercilessly chipped away at over time. Sniper takes a deep breath, and for the first time since they met, it feels natural when his hand finds its way to Spy’s shoulder.

 

That night is a hard one. Tavish excuses himself to his room fairly quickly and leaves them for the night. Sniper doesn’t take it personally, all in all, it’s been a very long and stressful day, and while he’s still angry with Tavish, he did have to take the worse of a lot of the conflicts today. When Spy and Sniper head downstairs, Sniper starts setting up the couch for the night out of respect of the Spy’s boundaries more than anything. 

 

“You don’t have to do that.” Spy says from his doorway. And that’s all it takes to break Sniper. 

 

“Alright.” He says, pillow in hand when he follows Spy’s into his tiny room. 

 

They don’t talk about it, as Spy is a man to keep up appearances, to which Sniper notes must be hard to do when he tends to get so emotional. But only takes about thirty minutes, right around when Sniper can finally feel himself drifting off to sleep, when the bed jostles him back awake. Spy is facing him now, his eyes looking somewhere else entirely and the bags under them purple at the edges. 

 

Sniper, in his sleep deprived state reaches an arm out to him, his voice at a whisper, “Come here, Spook.”  

 

And that’s all it takes to break Spy, he gives in and lets himself be embraced. He doesn’t dare look at Sniper anymore, as his pride still just won’t let him. Sniper sighs against him, his hand in Spy’s hair playing with it absentmindedly. It’s a primal sort of comfort, one that comes from those in your life that truly love you. Spy closes his eyes, and while he isn’t able to sleep for another two hours, he feels Sniper’s hand stop in his hair and his breath go into a light snore. 

 

There are things he wish he could say. In his head, Spy’s words flow from his mouth freely as he speaks highly of the man with the goofy cowboy hat. But it’s far too late, Sniper is already fast asleep and the guilt of leaving his son plagues his thoughts. He presses his head to Sniper’s chest and allows himself this comfort. Maybe one day, when all of this blows over, he’ll let his words flow and be the charming man he was always known to be. Despite it all, he lets out a soft laugh.

 

Right before he drifts off to sleep, he thinks about his son and holds the man next to him, realizing he has one more person to keep living for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> d a m n that was such a long hiatus im so sorry//
> 
> BUT WE LIVE IM BACK
> 
> i cant promise frequent updates, but def the next one will be out before like..... the 3-4 month mark like this one (i am so sorry)


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plan goes into effect

 

Spy thought he would’ve been used to being arrested by now. 

 

He looks down at his handcuffed wrists and wonders, has he been arrested seven- no, maybe eight times now? Spy’s not so sure if that crazy time in Bermuda really counts. Or if this time does either for that matter. 

 

What Tavish and Dell thought would’ve been a day between his arrival and the Agency’s turned out be Dell and the Agency coming in the same van together, as they apparently caught up with him during the errands he’d told Tavish about.

 

Fortunately for Dell, he gets to sit in the comfy passenger seat as the unknown man from the Agency drives the van they’re currently stuck in. Unfortunately for everyone else, that leaves the rest of the their rag-tag group shoved in the back handcuffed and crowded. And while the outside of the van is disguised as some sort of bread delivery truck, the inside tells a much darker story. One that involves past passengers with a much worse fate than their own. It’s all very foreboding, including the highly suspicious deadbolted storage containers that serve as their seats.

 

Ludwig has been giving a record setting-ly long death stare at Tavish, “I hate you.” He hisses. 

 

Tavish rolls his eyes, “I heard ya’ the first time ya’ bastard.” 

 

“I want you to know. I want you to know just how much I hate you. I want you to know that when I get out of these handcuffs-” He rattles his wrists, “-I’m going to take your liver.” 

 

Tavish gives a smooth smile and points at him condescendly, “That’s quite the temper tantrum Doc’.” 

 

Spy thinks he can physically can see the steam from Ludwig’s ears. He certainly is red, but that could just be from the heat, as the van transforms into an oven traveling in the day with six people and no air conditioning. 

 

Ludwig fumes there for a while, at a lost for words until he finds the right ones. “I  _ hate  _ you.” 

 

As the battle of wits between Ludwig and Tavish rages on, Sniper rustles awake and yawns. Spy turns to him, absolutely miserable in the heat, “Enjoy the nap?” 

 

“Wasn’t too bad.” Sniper’s handcuffs clink when he rubs his eyes, “I’ve had worse.” 

 

“Of course you have.” Spy drawls. 

 

The window separating the front of the van and the back is knocked on, grabbing all their attention. The southern accent comes muffled through the glass, “Now ya’ll better settle down back there or I’ll have teach ya’ a lesson myself.” 

 

Dell’s talking to Ludwig and Tavish of course, so they do settle down for a moment. Until Ludwig kicks Tavish in the shin only minutes later. 

 

“That’s it.” Is the only warning Tavish gives before he launches himself across the van at Ludwig. Mikhal watches them wrestle quietly, much too hot and annoyed to be bothered to help his partner. He really had asked for it anyway. 

 

While Ludwig isn’t a small or weak man by any means, Tavish isn’t either and he’s the one that was trained for physical combat. The van rocks on the road, Dell’s voice shouting from the front as Tavish shuffles behind Ludwig to strangle him with his handcuffs. 

 

Ludwig grasps behind him, losing air, “I-! WILL TAKE-! YOUR FUCKING LIVER-!” 

 

Tavish pins him to the wall of the van gritting his teeth, “God, you just don’t know when to shut up do ya’?!”  

 

Mikhal then finally stands, tired of their bickering, when the van comes to an abrupt stop, causing the all of them to jut forward. Tavish and Ludwig slam into the van wall next to them, the painfully loud metal thud causing Sniper to cringe a tiny bit. 

 

The van doors swing open, the sudden light flooding in and blinding them while their eyes adjust. Dell addresses the driver from the bright doorway, “Now rookie if you want a lil’ advice as to how to wrangle up some grade A dumbasses, I could give ya’ a few pointers right now.” 

 

Spy hears the driver door slam and watches the scrawny man come into view. Dell elbows him lightly, “Now what you’ll wanna do first is set an example. Give the other lil’ fellers some time to think about their actions for the future.” He points to Medic with a sick grin, “Come on you, get up. You get the pleasure of bein’ example number one.” 

 

Ludwig shuffles from his spot on the van’s floor to spit at Dell. He has pretty good aim too as he just barely hits the bottom of Dell’s boot and huffs in satisfaction. 

 

Dell’s eye twitches, “Now I really wanted to be nice to you boys while the rookies’ here. I’ll give ya’ one more chance to get on outta’ here with both your legs still in tack.” 

 

“Tough words from such a _ small _ man.” Ludwig gives his trademark smile, “Are you sure your not compensating for something?” 

 

Spy snickers. Mikhal does not. 

 

He sighs, “Such a shame. I heard you were a  _ smart _ man.” Dell nods to the skinny driver beside him, “Could ya’ grab my gun from the front, son?” 

 

The driver nods and quickly moves to retrieve Dell’s gun from the front of the van. Sniper notes that he looks young, probably only in his twenties or so. He reminds him of himself when he joined the Agency- just skin and bone that follows orders. 

 

Dell grabs the pistol from his partner and turns to Ludwig while he reloads it, “Now ya’ see, the good part about driving through the middle of nowhere means that I don’t gotta’ use a silencer. You’ll be lucky if they find your body before the coyotes do. Ain’t nobody here for miles.” 

 

He then climbs into the van and wrestles to grab Ludwigs shirt collar to drag him out. Mikhal attempts to block him, but Dell puts his gun nuzzle to his neck, “Don’t worry big guy. You and one eye over there are next. I also heard you got a family? Now ain’t that sweet- and if ya’ cooperate you might just see them again.” 

 

Mikhal slowly sits again, staring down Dell while he drags Ludwig out of the van. He tosses him out onto the dirt in front of his partner, and hops down. “You mind setting him up over there?” He points to a large rock a few paces away, “I just wanna make sure the rest of them got a good view.” 

 

The driver grunts, Ludwig struggling against him as much as he can whilst being dragged towards his future location of death. Sniper shoots Tavish a concerned look, this wasn’t supposed to happen, no one was supposed to die here. Tavish can’t give him anything more than the same concerned look back, this isn’t the plan. 

 

After a minute or two, Ludwig is properly propped up against the rock. Dell wipes the sweat from his brow, it’s a scorcher of a day today, maybe he’ll leave the other two just out to thirst to death- no need to waste the ammo. 

 

Dell squints in the sun “Any last words, Doc?” 

 

He lets out a high pitched laugh, “Are you quite done with all the theatrics, my friend?” 

 

“Not yet.” He smiles, then glances over his shoulder to address his partner, waving his pistol, “You wanna take the shot son? I heard ya’ never got the chance to do field work yet. This’ll be perfect practice.” 

 

The scrawny man visually debates with himself for a moment before meekly stepping up beside Dell. “Now ya’ see-” Dell shows him the pistol, “First off your gonna’ wanna’ make sure your safety is off and you got your case loaded. Don’t wanna’ look like a fool.”

 

He just nods nervously agreeing. Dell sighs and slowly smiles, “Yer’ a pretty good kid, ya’ know that? You listen to orders, don’t pick fights- your not very bright, but that’s ok.” He pats him on the back, “So I want ya’ know that this is nothing personal alright? It’s just business.” 

 

The man doesn’t have time to process the comment, as Dell expertly side steps and pulls the trigger, immediately blowing his head clean off. Everyone jumps at the gunshot, well used to the sound by now, but still surprising in its timing. The thin body slumps to the ground, and Dell wipes his face off on his shirt, his partners blood smearing onto the cloth. 

 

“Took you long enough!” Ludwig yells, “Now get these handcuffs off of me and get me out of the sun. I’m roasting like a pig out here.” 

 

Dell laughs, sauntering over, “Sorry about that Doc’. I’ve always been a fan of the melodramatic.” 

 

“How very unfortunate for the rest of us.” He groans. 

 

Dell unlocks Ludwigs handcuffs and then tosses the keys into the van, “There ya’ boys. All according to plan.” 

 

Ludwig rubs his wrists bitterly as he stands to meet him, “I’m not so sure that’s correct.” 

 

“Aw come on Doc,” He says looking into the van, “You were a pretty good actor yourself.  All of you were.” 

 

“Could’ve fooled me.” Tavish complains as he unlocks his handcuffs. 

 

Dell holds up another key from his set, “Mind if I unlock those containers under ya’? It’ll only take a moment.” 

 

And with that, everyone steps out of the van and into the sun, finally taking off the last of the handcuffs and taking the opportunity to stretch. “How long were we even in there?” Sniper asks while rolling his shoulders. 

 

“A little less than a day. Not too bad.” Dell unlocks the first container to his left, “And before you go on complaining about it, just know that our buddy here had it even worse.” 

 

Out of the container pops bright red curly hair and wild eyes. The pale man rubs their eyes and looks around, eventually locking stares with Sniper and Spy. They recognize them- after all, the black eye Sniper had given them is just about healed now, only a little yellow around the edges. 

 

Sniper’s more confused than anything, “You’re the kid from-” 

 

“You’re the punk that burnt my apartment to the ground!” Spy interupts, “What the hell are they doing here?!”

 

Dell scratches his head, “Oh shoot, that  _ was _ your house wasn’t it?” The man hides behind Dell’s figure, looking much smaller in just a white tank and out of the leather clad outfit they had encountered them in before. Dell glances towards them and throws up his hands in defense, “Now listen fellas, I know this looks bad-” 

 

“Bad?!” Spy sputters, “That barbarian destroyed everything I owned!” 

 

They rise out of the container, the athletic knee brace they now wear catching Sniper's eye. Dell nods, “To be fair, they were just following orders.” 

 

Tavish butts in, pinching his nose, “Wait, is this the errand you were talking about? This is the  _ friend _ you bailed out?” 

 

“Yup.” Dell throws his arm over their shoulder. “They happened to be one of my University kids when I taught Engineering Sciences on the side. They, uh, dropped out since apparently arson is frowned upon as a leisure activity.” 

 

“As it should be.” Spy adds.

 

“And well, the Agency picked them up by chance so I just look out for ‘em ya’ know?” Dell messes the kids bright red hair, “Making sure to keep all the friends I got and all that.” 

 

Spy frowns, “How touching.”

 

They then lean into Dells ear, whispering as he nods along, “They say they’re sorry about the house. And trying to kill your kid.” He leans and listens one more time, “And to call them Pyro.” 

 

“Can’t they speak for themselves?” Tavish asks. 

 

Dell sighs, “They just get a little nervous is all.” 

 

“Sorry about ya’ leg then.” Sniper speaks up, pointing to the brace. 

 

Spy whips around to Sniper, “You’re actually apologizing to them?!” 

 

Sniper watches Dell help them out of the van and stretch their muscles, “We don’t really got much of a choice on whether or not we wanna’ play nice with these people. We’re all in the same place I think. We’ve all done bad things that we regret.” 

 

He huffs, “Well I’m not one to forgive so easily.” 

 

“I didn’t say I am. And you don’t have to.” Sniper pats him on the back, “You just gotta’ work with them for a bit.”

 

Spy rolls his eyes.

 

He leans in, his voice low, “Please? For me?” Sniper teases, “For Jeremy?” 

 

Spy gives him a knowing glance and a smirk before pushing Sniper away, “I honestly can’t stand you. Steeping so low as to beg.” 

 

Mikhal clears his throat loudly, reminding everyone of his presence, “This is fine.” He gestures to all of them, “But what is plan now?” 

 

“I was just about to get to that.” Dell smiles and moves to unlock the container on the right side of the van. “Let me get the supplies out here and then we can load up and head out. Since we’ll be on the road for a few more hours, I’ll brief ya’ll of plan on the way.” 

 

“You don’t happen to have a cooler in there do you?” Ludwig speaks up, kneeling beside Dell’s dead partner and currently elbows deep in his chest.

 

“ _ What the hell?! _ ” Spy turns to him mortified, “I thought you had all your supplies confiscated during our arrest?!” 

 

“Oh that.” He laughs, “You’d be surprised how easy it is to dig into a chest cavity once you’ve broken through some mental barriers.” Ludwig ends his sentence staring daggers again at Tavish.

 

Tavish throws his hands in the air, “Are you still mad about the bigfoot thing?! I’m not having this argument again!” 

 

Ludwig shuffles through the man’s chest angrily, “I just think tying me to a tree was a bit excessive.” 

 

“You were gonna run before Dell got there!” Tavish yells. 

 

_ “Enough!”  _ Mikhal chimes in again, ‘We have talked about this enough. No more complaining.” 

 

“Fine.” Ludwig groans lifting a newly harvest liver, “But uh, the status on the cooler?” 

 

“Put it back.” Dell answers, “There ain’t no cooler.” 

 

He reluctantly shoves the liver back into the body as Dell continues, “And to touch again on what the spy said, while ya’ll did have your supplies confiscated, I just happen to have kept them here. Along with a few other little surprises.” He winks. 

 

They all gather around the van entrance to try and sneak a peek. Mikhal towers above them, “These are guns.” He says with a hint of interest in his voice. 

 

“Mostly, yes.” Dell agrees, “But there are some uniforms too.” 

 

Mikhal grins, “I like your style.” 

 

With a few quick uniform changes and the passing around of some warm water bottles, the team piles up into the van and sets off. Dell drives, but this time keeps the window open between the front and the back letting the air conditioning flow between them. The desert road is bumpy, and it jolts Dell’s voice as he talks, “Now if my map here is right, we’re somewhere on the west border of Texas. Considering the Agency caught up with me so early, we made off pretty lucky, as we’re probably gonna’ hit the Badlands right on schedule.”

 

Sniper takes another sip from his water, “So we’re going straight to the main base?”

 

“That’s the plan.” Dell sighs, “We’ll have to stop once more right before we get there to get you boys back into some cuffs and have Spy up here with me.” 

 

Spy laughs, “I assume I’ll be taking the role of your recently deceased partner?” 

 

“Bingo.” Dell laughs, “Basically we just need to get into the base. They’re expecting me, so hopefully I can take a few of ya’ to the intel rooms while pretending to keep ya’ captured and there we can destroy everything they’ve got on us. Pyro will be leading the few you on property damage duty for a distraction if need be.” 

 

The now-masked Pyro lifts up a gloved thumbs up with a happy grunt. Dell continues, “So that means I’ll have Spy, and Mikhal with me. I need ya’ to make a ruckus when we get in there big guy- enough to warrant two agents having to control you.” 

 

Mikhal nods, his smile barely there, “This is fine.” 

 

“Then we got Tavish and Pyro on demolitions.” Dell says, “You’ll need to trick or kill the guard that’ll be assigned to you. I’ll give a signal via the intercom system and you’re gonna blow the left wing to bits, hopefully getting them off of our trail. Pyro knows the layout so they’ll lead ya’ to where ya’ need to go.” 

 

Tavish laughs to himself, “It’s been awhile since I’ve done field work.”

 

Sniper interrupts, “So that leaves myself and Ludwig?” 

 

“Exactly.” Dell points, “You and the Doc’ are gonna sit nice and hidden. I trust you’ll find somewhere to nest for awhile and give us cover when we need to make our getaway. Doc’s gotta be there and safe in case we need some on hand medical treatment.”

 

“Ah, the sidelines as usual.” Ludwig yawns, “You went through so much trouble to get me, and now you toss me off to the dogs.” 

 

Mikhal places a hand on his shoulder as Dell answers, “Not exactly. We need you there in case there’s an injury of course, but I’ve heard you're also fairly frightenting on field. So if anything, your both a medic and back up.” He scratches his head, “And that reminds me, once we get there we’re only using our codenames from work if need be. No first names anymore.” 

 

Tavish smiles and nudges Sniper, “You hear that  _ Sniper? _ ” 

 

He nudges back, “Course I did  _ Demoman. _ ” 

 

After that, the rest of their time is spent with small talk or moments of silence. Sniper keeps to himself mostly, but he has to admit that it feels good to be on a team, as he usually never had the privilege. Spy sits beside him, playing with his knife to keep distracted as Ludwig, Tavish, and Dell go off again about something too intelligent for the rest of them to understand. Sniper leans into his space keeping his voice at a half-whisper, “How ya’ doin’ Spook?” 

 

“As good as I can be I guess.” Spy sighs fidgeting with his mask, “Nervous, but that’s to be expected. Why do you ask?” 

 

Sniper thinks the classic balaclava fits Spy nicely, but he does secretly miss seeing his whole face. “No reason.” He leans back, “Just wanted to talk.” 

 

“That’s a new development.” Spy says, “Something on your mind?” 

 

“I’m just…” Sniper swallows dryly, “I’m just really glad I met you ya’ know?” 

 

Spy huffs, “Funny that you should say that now of all times. Considering the circumstances.” 

 

“I dunno’.” He replies a little softer, “I feel like you needed to hear it is all.” 

 

“Enough with the sentimentalities.” Spy pats Snipers leg, keeping his hand there, “They’d be much more appreciated after we get back, hm?”

 

Sniper looks at Spy, really looks at him with so much admiration it’d make a younger version of himself sick. Truthfully he was jealous at just how easily Spy could unglue him with just a few words, how unwound he got when they were close like this. Spy’s hand is warm on Sniper’s lap, and when it moves away, it takes his warmth with it. Surprisingly, Sniper knows that it isn’t Spy pulling away this time- he’ll be back, he can feel it. And finally Sniper realizes that in these past weeks, he really fallen for this man. Spy’s curt and stubborn and clever and sometimes, when Sniper locks eyes with him, he feels his heart skip a beat. 

 

Gazing now at Spy, his mind high on this strange brand on adrenaline, Sniper doesn’t even catch the words that leave his lips, “God, I love you.” 

 

But the words do leave his mouth, and Spy hears them. His breath falters only slightly, something Sniper only catches from being so physically close to him. Sniper immediately curses under his breath, this isn’t the time or place for something like this, it was wrong of him to say it- unfair to say to Spy right before--

 

“I know.” Spy interrupts his thoughts, and reaches for his hand to hold tight between them in a fleeting moment of intensity when he locks eyes with him, “You, Micky Mundy, are truly one of the most brilliant men I’ve ever met. If we-” He pauses, keeping his voice to only a whisper, “ _ When _ we get home I think I just might be ready to say that I love you too.” 

 

Spy shakes their hands slightly before letting go, “But not right now. Right now, we have a job.” He grins, his mask framing his smile nicely, “And you’ve always been quite the professional.” 

 

Sniper rubs his face, smiling as the relief washes over him, “You’re right.” He nods, “A professional through and through.” 

 

Looking around, it seems like  _ most _ of everyone there was too distracted to see their embarrassingly sappy display. Spy does notice however, Mikhal's raised eyebrow and intense interest his shoes, refusing direct eye contact.  _ Well, _ Spy thinks to himself,  _ At least he’s quiet. _

 

Eventually the Badlands come into sight over the horizon, disguised as a small military base littered with trespassing and government signs on the tall fence that surrounds it. Dell stops the van, Spy gets into disguise and shuffles into the passenger seat, and everyone prepares themselves as they drive towards the gate.

 

Spy squints his eyes in the sun trying to get a good look at the guard from afar, “The guard is awfully small isn’t he?” 

 

Dell clicks his tongue, “Yeah, looks like they may have switched him out.” The worry poorly concealed in his voice, “I wonder why.” 

 

They all sit in silence a little longer while the guard station comes more into view. Spy speaks up again, “Is that…” He pauses, making sure he’s seeing things right, “...a young girl?” 

 

“Shit.” Dell spits. 

 

They’re almost there, Spy keeps a good face, but his voice is slightly panicked, “What does that mean? Who is this?” 

 

Dell turns to him while slowing coming to a stop, his voice curt, “Don’t say a damn word.” He then rolls down the window address the girl, his voice as sweet as honey, “Little Miss Francine! What are you doin’ out here in the sun?” 

 

Her expression is incredibly serious for someone that could only be around fourteen. Her black hair is pinned back tightly into the bun at her neck, and the glasses that rest on her nose are too big for her face- probably hand-me-downs Spy notes. 

 

“Get out of the car.” Her voice cuts into him. “And I told you not to call me that.” 

 

“Right, right.” Dell nods, his voice still smooth, “Miss Pauling then.” 

 

The girl then whips a pistol from behind her hip and points it at Dell head. “I said get out of the car.” She pauses, looking into the passenger seat, “And tell your friend to put down his gun if he enjoys breathing.” 

 

Spy, while holding a gun directed at this young girls head, is still reeling from the speed that she pulled this gun and the hardened expression she wears that took years of killing for even himself to perfect. This girl, whoever she was, was not to be taken lightly and truly terrified Spy.

 

There's a tapping at the window behind him, and Spy glances out the passenger side window to be greeted with the face of a much bigger guard. He can see more figures running up behind him, and Spy realizes that they’re surrounded. Somehow, someway, they were expecting this.

 

Dell moves Spy’s gun down with his hand carefully, “It’s ok son, no need to be nervous. I know your new to the job.” 

 

“S-sorry.” He stutters in a voice that isn’t his own, “I’m still getting used to the harsh greetings here.” Spy laughs, keeping up his persona. 

 

“Dr. Dell Conagher.” Pauling addresses him again. “The Agency is now charging you with treason. As per your contract when enlisting, you will now be taken into custody and tried for said treachery. Any resistance will be met with deadly force.” She pauses, “So get out of the car.” 

 

Dell looks around him and raises his arms, “You’ve got quite the attitude lil’ lady.” he slowly leaves the van and closes the door behind him, “There’s no need to--” 

 

“Open the back.” Pauling cuts him off, addressing the guards around the van. “Get everyone out of the out where we can see them.” 

 

One by one the team is forced out of the van and into the sunlight. They stand with their handcuffs loose, waiting for some sort of signal from Dell. This isn’t how the plan was supposed to go, but plans can be modified on the fly. Tavish counts that they’re outnumbered three to one, which aren’t the worst odds he’s ever experienced, but the fact that they have guns in their hands and theirs are still hidden in the van keeps him quiet. 

 

Pauling has another guard rip Spy from the passenger seat and gather everyone together. Dell however is kept to the front, another guard keeping him in check. She walks around the group, prowling like lion when she stops to look at Sniper, “Mick Mundy. You happen to be a very lucky man.” A guard reaches forward and grabs his forearm. “The boss would like to meet with you personally.” 

 

Sniper is then ripped from the group and him and Dell and taken into the base in two different directions. She turns to the group, “As for the rest of you, I’m sure you know that your crimes out number just simple treason. We have some questions, and then we’ll decide your fate.” Pauling turns, talking to them over her shoulder. ‘It is only fair that you know that it was Mr. Mick Mundy that found you out.” She pauses, “Take that as you will.” 

 

The only reason Spy is still standing is his years of training and anger forcing him to never show weakness. He feels hollow, watching Sniper be escorted inside the base, the door closing behind him. Spy’s gulit hits him like a freight train, this is all his fault. Tavish is the one that finally speaks up, his voice harsh, “Your lying!” he yells, “Mick wouldn’t do that, he doesn’t have it in him!” 

 

“Oh?” Pauling turns, her interest peaked, “Was it not him that put the transmitter behind his ear then?” 

 

Tavish loses all confidence, “What-?” 

 

“Shut. Up.” Ludwig warns Tavish through gritted teeth. 

 

“Mick barely knows how to operate a bloody telephone and you think he was rattin’ us out?!” Tavish yells, too angry to listen. 

 

Pauling takes a moment, staring at all of them. She walks up to the group and settles her gaze on Spy. “Maybe not.” She admits. “Interesting that Dell specifically requested you as a partner don’t you think?” 

 

“W-Why’s that?” Spy says through his disguise. 

 

“You’ve only been here around four months, have no special set of skills outside of cleaning up the base on occasion, and yet-” She points, “You were still chosen.” Pauling then smiles, “Was it perhaps because you were disposable?” 

 

“I-” 

 

“I want him questioned first.” Pauling talks to the guards, “And I want the boss there. I’m not completely sure, but I think we’ve found our spy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahh!! a longer chapter to apologize for the wait! schools out, so im hoping to finish this up by the end of the summer!! WE'RE IN THE END GAME BOYOS


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things go just about as well as expected.

The Boss was a busy woman. 

 

The Agency that she runs is unique, taking the left over jobs that were either too small, too messy, or just too risky for the local government FBI agents. She got the scrap jobs, and all the while made sure her agents were protected from the world's governments in exchange for her silence on the matter. Commissions were brought in on the regular, the government didn’t have to worry about blood getting on their hands, (or better yet their expenses) and it gave her the power that she so frequently craved. 

 

So the last worry on her mind was some rogue spy. That is, until they had told her who it was. 

 

More than a decade ago Helen sat in the same large chair she does in now, and looked upon all her monitors. She clicked through them, the top left coming to static- her worst fears being realized.  

 

“She appears to have gone rogue.” The no-name trainee had said behind her, “We can’t find her signal anymore and she refuses to establish contact.” 

 

If the boss hadn’t been doing this for literal decades perhaps this would’ve hurt her more, but this spy wasn’t the first of her elite agents to leave her- and certainly not the last. She takes a long drag off of her cigarette, “Send out men to gather intel.” She finally blows the smoke back at the monitors, her voice husk, “I’m sure the boys in the lab will whip up something to shut her up.” 

 

“Understood.” She heard him then leaving for the door.

 

Helen squinted at the static filled screen again, feeling something akin to loss. “Do we know where she was last sighted? “ 

 

He stops, “Her last sighting was in Manhattan, but from the last few bits of phone calls we were able to pick up from the local radio towers suggests that she’s headed somewhere in Massachusetts. We’ll be sending agents to those two locations first naturally.” 

 

She waved her hand dismissing him, “Just take care of it.” 

 

It really was a shame when she had thought about it. Of all her elite agents, Renée had been one of her favorites. Having her die a slow and painful death via poisoning wasn’t exactly optimal, having learned now that she already has a few boys of her own. But that wasn’t  _ her _ fault, Helen had told Renée ever since she took her in at the young age of ten that families weren’t something that people like them had.  

 

Years later, she sits in the same chair she always sits in and stares at the exact same monitors. The top left screen no longer showing static, but now showing a new agent. One that was currently interrogating the lowlife sorry excuse for a spy that was being a pain in her ass. 

 

Most of the time problems don’t follow her like this, if there was anything Helen was talented at it would be directing a smooth operation- as she’s done so for years. Somehow this conflict and this intangible wound left untreated on her side still stung, but she hoped that today she would finally lay all of this to rest. 

 

Helen glances at the monitor directly in front of her, the rogue Sniper staring daggers into the camera back at her as the guards hold him steady. She presses the button in front of her microphone, “Bring him in.”

 

And just like that, all the locks on her door click behind her automatically. The large guards drag Sniper into the small room, the flickering light from the wall full of screens serving as the only light source in the place. She still sits with her face towards the screens, always watching, and doesn’t face Sniper even when the guards lock him into his seat behind her. The cuffs that connect his wrists and ankles tightly to the chair look more new than they probably were. 

 

“Mr. Mick Mundy.” Her voice drawls, the smoke from her cigarette breaking her dark silhouette. She spins her chair towards him, reading the manila file in her hand. “Joined the Agency at the age of 25. Physically traveled to the main base to enlist with his comrade Tavish Finnegan DeGroot. Understood basic rifle skills from hunting trips with his father, then trained here for three years before continuing as a sniper agent in the field. Over the next five years you’ve collected over one hundred and fifty confirmed kills by your lonesome.” She shuts the file slowly, her unforgiving eyes cutting into him through the darkness, “You’re certainly not the worst sniper we’ve got.” 

 

He doesn’t answer her. She stares at him with a deep set scowl on her face, the wrinkles around it just making it even more prominent. The smell from her cigarette burns his nose, the ashtray noticeably full on her counter by the screens. 

 

“Do you know why your here Mr. Mundy?” She asks him.

 

Again Sniper stays silent. He knows he’s not a good speaker, and he could never trust himself with his words so he keeps his mouth shut. 

 

“You always were so quiet.” She huffs, taking a long draw, “It’s probably why you weren’t a complete failure as a trainee.” 

 

The boss moves her chair forward just enough to lean over and put out her cigarette on the back of Sniper’s hand, “You’re here-” She starts, Sniper gritting his teeth through the pain, “-because I want you here. If I wanted you dead, you’d be dead. Simple as that.” 

 

Sitting back up in her chair, she looks down at the angry man in front of her. She was hoping to be able to still use him as an agent after all of this was over- to beat him down and rebuild him- but the look in his eyes say otherwise. You could tell that there were certain men that could be broken down quickly, and others that would die for their cause. 

 

“Do you how hard it is to raise a child Mr. Mundy?” She flicks her cigarette ashes at him when his face shows his surprise, “It takes time and a hell of a lot of discipline. I would know, I’ve been raising them for years.” She pauses again, “It’s easy to teach through example, but the truly clever ones shine when you put them to the test.” 

 

She then reaches for Sniper’s face, and he snaps away from her, “Don’t worry Mr. Mundy, your beatings won’t be coming from me. It’s been far too many years since I’ve actually gotten any blood on my hands.” And with that she reaches behind his ear and takes off the adhesive keeping the small transmitter stuck to his skin and holds it to the light. “Dell certainly is a smart man, but it’ll take him a few more years before he’s ready to outsmart me.” 

 

Sniper’s voice comes out scratchy in his anger, “What’s that?” 

 

“Oh, so you do talk.” Helen drawls, and places the transmitter on the counter, “Dr. Conagher thought he could get around having an actual partner for this mission so he could have your little…” She waves as she searches for the word, “...gathering here. His intelligence leads him to believe that I must be some sort of idiot, so I instructed his partner to plant this on you. After all, I needed information on both you and your friends, and it gives my new elite agent a chance to show her talents.” 

 

She then presses a button next to her microphone, turning all the monitors into a huge screen that now only shows what was the top left monitor. While theres no audio and his head is down, the tied man in the chair on screen Sniper quickly identifies as Spy. Sniper swallows as he watches the small girl from the front of the base pistol whip Spy hard across the face, Spy spiting his blood off to the side after. The boss smiles wickedly, “You’ll be happy to know she’s passed with flying colors.” 

 

Before Sniper can yell, The boss turns off all the monitors leaving them both in darkness and then flicking them back to their normal state. “Now I don’t take treachery lightly, but I have an especially low tolerance with liars. So I suggest you give the information I need if you’d like to continue breathing.” 

 

Sniper exhales a shaky breath, and then notices a glint of light from the air vents just to the left of the monitors. He looks back at Helen, “What do you want from me?” 

 

“I want to know about the spy’s son.” She says frankly, “I know you’ve been traveling with him.” 

 

Sniper’s gut falls, and his blood runs cold. He gulps, “Why?” 

 

“You really aren’t in the position to be asking questions are you?” She flicks more ashes in his direction and sighs, “But you see Mr. Mundy, agents are hard to find and even harder to train. Children however, are like little sponges for information.” She gestures to the monitors, “Raising them to be like Miss Pauling there makes sure I don’t get treacherous agents like you.” 

 

He glaces again to the air vent when she takes her stare off of him to crush her cigarette and light a new one. It’s only a glimpse, but he’s sure the cover was taken off. Someone’s in there with them. 

 

Sniper figures that whoever's in here is probably on his side, and they’ll need a distraction. He speaks up, “So that’s it then? You’ll just make your own lil’ army and then what?” 

 

“Tch.” She blows smoke in his face, “I’m going to do what I’ve always done. Lead from the second row.” Helen smiles.

 

From the shadows they both hear a light thump, Sniper and Helen’s gazes snapping to behind the monitors. They both wait a moment, breathes held. “No one was authorized to be here.” Helen snaps at the darkness.

 

Across the polished concrete floor, a baseball slowly rolls into view. Sniper recognizes it instantly.

 

Helen reaches over and grasps the baseball with her long nails, inspecting it thoroughly, “I don’t know what kind of jokester is hiding back there, but when I--” 

 

Out the darkness then shines a quick flash of grey, and the very distinctive  _ THWACK _ of a metal bat as it comes in contact with the side of Helen’s head. 

 

She crumbles in her chair, unconscious from the hit and letting the baseball roll out of her hand. There’s another moment of stunned silence before Jane reveals himself from the back,  _ “HOOOOOOME RUN!”  _  he yells pumping his fists in victory.

 

“Jane?!” Sniper yells from his chair, “But your supposed to be with--” 

 

“Nice job soldier!” Jane yells back into the darkness and pulls out a very shaken Jeremy, metal bat in hand, “Now that was one hell of a swing you got there kid!” 

 

Jeremy’s pulled into the light, laughing nervously and not taking his eyes off of Helen, “Heh, you think so?” 

 

“Jeremy?!” Sniper yells even louder, “How in the hell--?!

 

Jane puts up his hand to silence Sniper, “I get it. We weren’t invited. But we both figured you’d some help, right soldier?” he elbows Jeremy playfully. 

 

Jeremy lifts his shoulders, “Eh, sort of.” 

 

Sniper’s at a loss for words. He takes a deep breath, “Ok, I need to get out of these cuffs and I need an explanation.” 

 

“I’ll work on the handcuffs.” Jane announces as he moves to the monitor control desk, “Soldier, you give the man a debriefing.” 

 

“Ok so…” Jeremy starts nervously standing in front of Sniper, “We went to the hotel like you and dad said right?” 

 

“Uh huh.” Sniper replies patiencently. 

 

“And then, Jane took us to the used sports store to get my bat, ‘cause he thought that I should learn how to actually play baseball. And we went to the park to play for a bit.” 

 

“Of course.” 

 

“But then,” Jeremy gets excited, “I remembered that I forgot Pancake! And I knew that no one was gonna’ be around to feed her for awhile.” 

 

 _Damn that lizard,_ he thinks. Sniper sighs, “...Right.” 

 

“So then I told Jane and he agreed that we had to go back and get her.” 

 

Jane pipes up from the desk, “I did!” 

 

“But when we went back to get her, everyone was gone already.” Jeremy explains, “And when we went in the basement, there was a guy searching the place!” 

 

Jane pipes in, “Turns out, he was one of the little bastards from here snooping around.”

 

“Yeah!” He agrees, “So Jane beat him up. And we went through Tavish’s stuff--” 

 

“Don’t tell Tavish.” Jane interrupts, “He doesn’t like people going through his things.” he grumbles.

 

Jeremy looks off to the side, “So Jane looked through a bunch of stuff and brought us here. We took your van since you left your keys on the counter and it had Pancakes food in it anyway.” 

 

There's a beat of silence where Sniper just stares back at Jeremy, there are just too many questions rattling around in his head at the moment. How did they find the base? How did they get through unarmed? How did they find the airvent- let alone the bosses room and--

 

Jeremy meekly interrupts his thoughts, “You’re not mad at me, are you?” 

 

“Got it!” Jane declares as he types in a command on the desk, and suddenly all the metal cuffs restraining Sniper releasing him all simultaneously. 

 

Sniper immediately runs and grasps Jeremy in a tight hug holding his head, “Of  _ course  _ I’m not mad at you kiddo.” he mumbles into his hair and squeezes Jeremy harder, “I’m just so glad your safe.” 

 

Jeremy doesn’t answer him, but he hugs back hiding his face from him. The intense relief that falls over Sniper is followed up by the deep heartbeat in his chest and the feeling of warmth flooding his veins. Perhaps if Sniper were younger he would have blamed this all on the adrenaline, but now he realizes that the feeling of unconditional love is actually quite nice. He lets out one more shaky sigh releasing the tension from his body, but coming to the sudden conclusion that he would go to the ends of the earth for this boy.  _ His _ boy.  

 

“You can let go of me now.” Jeremy laughs muffled in Sniper’s shirt. 

 

Sniper smiles and lets go, “Sorry about that kiddo.” 

 

“Now that you pansies are done with your sappy display,” Jane huffs, ”Next is finding the rest of everyone I assume?” 

 

Sniper whispers to Jeremy, “He’s just jealous.” Then looks back at Jane, “Yeah, I think so. We have to get everyone out, but we also gotta’ ruin the file database or else we came here for nothing.” Sniper then glances at Helen off to the side, still unconscious, “And we should probably tie her up or something.” 

 

Jane nods, “Sounds like a solid plan to me comrade. I’ll see if I can find any handcuffs. If not we can always reactivate the chair.” 

 

“Your surprisingly good at this.” Sniper adds as he watches Jane search around the room, “You sure you’re not an agent or something?” 

 

“Not an agent, I’m a veteran.” Jane smiles and fishes his dog tags out of the inside of his shirt, “Served a solid three years before I was dishonorably discharged!” 

 

\------------

 

Tavish, Dell, and Ludwig eventually find themselves stuck in one of the very few actual prison cells that are on base. The main base in the Badlands was created mostly for trainees and as a meeting point for agents. As the Agency as a whole doesn’t really  _ have _ a prisoner policy- most targets are killed rather than kept. 

 

They’re all handcuffed separately and they know Spy was taken for questioning, but the location of Mikhal and Pyro was still a mystery. 

 

The interrogation room isn’t actually all that far from their cell, and the telltale clicking of small rubber heels echoing through the halls notifies them of Miss Pauling and her guards. She turns the corner, clipboard in hand when she walks up to the front of their cell, her two guards right behind her at attention. She’s pissed, and the splatters of blood on her dress make her young appearance even more threatening. 

 

She brushes her bangs back into place, “Ok so I’m only going to ask this once. Whoever answers first gets to go last into the interrogation room.” 

 

Tavish raises his eyebrows sarcastically at the rest of them, “Ya’ hear that boys, we be getting a real treat today.” 

 

“Shut up.” Pauling snaps, “Now which one of your lunatic subordinates decided to drive a campervan through our fences and into the base’s air conditioning units.”

 

They all exchange confused looks. 

 

“Surely it was a planned attack.” She continues, “Delayed in it’s entrance and made to be a distraction from our interrogation on the rest of you.” 

 

Dell clears his throat, “It has been gettin’ a lil’ hot in here.” 

 

Tavish then squints, realizing who the only other person that could’ve gotten access to Sniper’s keys could’ve been, “I mean I got an idea of who it might be, but god knows if I sharing it with you.” 

 

She huffs, “That’s fine. We have ways of making you talk.” 

 

“She really does talk so serious for being so young.” Ludwig laughs elbowing Dell. “You can’t be older than eleven.” 

 

“First of all, that’s because I am above you on the proverbial food chain.” Pauling points at him smug, “And secondly, I’m thirteen.” 

 

“Proverbial sure is a big word Lil’ Miss Francine.” Dell elbows Ludwig back, “Are ya’ sure you’re using it right?” 

 

The two of them snicker to each other, and Miss Pauling, for one of the very few times in her life feels slightly embarrassed, “It won’t matter what you say when the three of you are dead.” She threatens. 

 

Tavish snickers with them, “Oh boyos pipe down! The little girl here is gonna kill us!” 

 

“I don’t have time for this.” She huffs loudly, the slight crack in her voice embarrassing her, “Take the one with the eyepatch into the interrogation room. I think we’ve gotten everything we needed out of the Spy. I’ll notify the boss.”

 

Tavish backpedals as the guards open the cell and lift him by the arms, “Now there’s no need to for all that now, can’t we settle this like adults?” 

 

Pauling smiles in his face, “Too bad for you, apparently I’m just some kid.” She then clicks her watch, lowering her head to talk into it, “Boss?” she waits a moment, “Boss do you copy?” 

 

“Uhhhhhhh…” A very manly voice answers her. “Yes? Rodger.” The same manly voice answers much more high pitched, very clearly trying to mimic a women’s voice.

 

Tavish bursts out laughing, instantly recognizing the voice as Jane. Miss Pauling stares daggers at him and looks down at her watch again, “Who is this?! You are not authorized to be over the boss’s microphone and--” 

 

She's interrupted by fighting over the other end of the call, another male voice yells in a familiar accent, “ _ What are you doing?!  _ Don’t answer that!” 

 

The first gruff voice wrestles the microphone back, his false voice failing, “Well I just thought that it’d be nice to--” 

 

Then there's some more wrestling with the mic, unintelligible bickering, and eventually the call abruptly ends. Pauling stares at her watch stunned before whipping her stare to Tavish, who’s wide smile annoys the hell out of her. 

 

“Was that your subordinate?!” She yells at him frantically, “Is this part of your plan?! Where’s the boss?!” 

 

“Oh, you’re giving us a lot of credit thinking we got a solid plan.” He laughs at her. 

 

Pauling nervously tucks away her bangs again and huffs, addressing the guards, “Nothing has changed. Switch him and the spy while I go check in on the boss.” She double checks her pistol to make sure it's loaded, just as she was taught to hundreds of times before, “One of you come with me. If I have to deal with these fools myself I will.” 

 

Tavish and Pauling then set off in two different directions, each with their own guard. Once Tavish rounds the corner, Dell leans to Ludwig, “So I forget- Tavish  _ does _ have physical combat training right?” 

 

Ludwig smiles, “He’s a little rusty, but yes.” 

 

“So how long you give him before he overpowers the guard?” Dell smiles back. 

 

He hums, “It depends, but I’d bet a solid ten minutes.” 

  
\------------

 

“Spy is gonna’ fucking kill me.” Sniper curses under his breath. Currently, they find themselves running down hallways looking for the interrogation room. Jane found a screen with a map in the Boss’s room, but its not like either of them are especially very good at memorizing maps, let alone with all this recent pressure. “It was a left at the 3rd hallway right?” 

 

Jane pants as they come to stop, “Yes? Wait- no.” He pauses, “Where are we going again?” 

 

“Uh, I think it was left.” Jeremy helpfully reassures him. Jeremy doesn’t actually know, but the positive answer sounds like the better one in his head. Truthfully he was still out of breath from having to run around in all the oversized guard armor Sniper gives him. The bulletproof vest is bulkier on him then it was on the guard before Jane gave him a flying kick to the face. 

 

“Left it is then I guess.” Sniper begrudgingly decides and leads them down the hallway again picking up pace. He continuously checks for Jeremy, making sure he stays in the middle while Jane is stationed behind them all. 

 

They come across a hallway of heavy bolted doors similar to the ones in the Boss’s office and they all come to a stop. Sniper looks around at them, “You think this is it?” 

 

Jane knocks on a door to his right, the metal clanking loudly, “Oh yeah this is it. High military grade security doors.” 

 

Right before Sniper can say anything, they all hear a large metal clank and a voice behind the door to Sniper’s right and all snap to attention. The voice is male, but its too muffled to understand what they’re saying. He puts his hand behind him bracing Jeremy, “Stand back, kiddo.” 

 

“Out of the way comrade,” Jane pushes past them, “I got this.” And then he proceeds to real back his arm comically and smash it into the door’s locking system at full force- effectively doing nothing other than break his own fingers and yells as he attempts to shake off the pain. 

 

The talking behind the door stops, as Sniper looks at Jane’s now bloodied hand, “What the hell was that for?!” 

 

Jane smiles, “To get their attention.” he points with a broken finger, and the door bursts open. 

 

\------------

 

Needless to say, this had been a very rough day for Spy. On the list of “The Worst Day Ever” this day had ranked a solid fourth place, and the migraine he had from the blaring interrogation lights and the rough treatment he would only wish on the worst of his enemies. In these trying times he tried to remind himself that pain was fleeting and one day he would heal and move on, but the giant rip in his new expensive suit kept him pissed in his chair. 

 

So he sits, and for the most part he’s quiet. The pattern gets exhausting after a while, Pauling and her guards ask him a question, he makes a witty retort, and they punch him in the face. Repeat. It’s not the  _ worst _ interrogation he’s had but it certainly isn’t as fun as he would like. 

 

But there are only so many punches to the face that a human can take before they pass out, and Spy was hitting his limit a lot faster than he would like to. After all, it was a whole lot easier to deflect questions when you couldn’t process what they said in the first place. On his last question, he’s socked in the side of the head particularly hard, and ringing fills his ears as he falls back onto the cool metal table in front of him.

 

He looks up from the table dazed, and watches Pauling roll her eyes and walk away before he passes out completely. 

 

He’s eventually shaken awake in his seat. At first he thinks its the guards so he throws his hands up to protect himself, but finds them released from the bloody handcuffs they were in before. He blinks in front of him trying to clear his eyes and focus on the massive figure in front of him. 

 

“Ca-....yo-...............my…...-ingers?” The figure asks him and lifts a massive hand in front of Spy. 

 

Spy blinks again looking between the two as his body comes back into the moment. 

 

“Can you count my fingers?” The figure asks again and shakes him lightly, who reveals himself out of Spy’s daze to be Mikhal. 

 

Spy rubs his head, resting a hand on Mikhail's shoulder to ground himself. “When did you get here?” 

 

Mikhal sighs in relief, “A few moments ago. We broke out and took the key to find you. We need to leave.” 

 

“We?” Spy asks.

 

Pyro pops out from behind him, loose handcuffs in hand and nearly giving Spy a heart attack. He flashes a thumbs up in his large rubber suit. 

 

Mikhal helps Spy out of his chair, “Like I said- we need to leave.” 

 

Spy stumbles, throwing the large metal chair to the concrete floor and making a loud clanking noise that feels like it physically splits his head in two. He yells in pain and holds his head, Mikhal leaning over him, “You alright?” 

 

Spy collects himself silently and leans on Mikhal as they walk towards the door. Mikhal starts again, “We have to be quiet and quick. We know where the others are--” 

 

A giant clank at the door silences them all to a dead stop. From the other side of the door, they all hear a shout and light arguing. Mikhal motions Pyro over and leans Spy onto him, pulls a pistol from the back of his belt, and rips open the door quickly and shoves his gun outside.

“Wow there!” Jane raises his arms up, looking down at the gun in front of him. “No need to be hostile- it’s a friendly here.” 

 

“Who are you?” Mikhal asks deeply, then looks past Jane and spots Sniper. They share a look of surprise as Mikhal lowers his gun. “Oh,” he states, “You are not dead. Good.” 

 

Mikhal then pulls the door inwards to slowly reveal the figure behind him. Sniper’s knees almost give out beneath him as his eyes land on Spy. His first urge is to lunge for him, make sure that Spy’s ok, but another instinct takes over his body and he stays put keeping Jeremy behind him. 

 

“Is that Jane?” Spy asks weakly while looking between the two of them. “Isn’t he supposed to be with--?” 

 

At that moment, Jeremy wiggles his way around Sniper and locks eyes with his father. Once, he remembered watching his father fall and twist his ankle and it was truly the first time he had ever comprehended that someone as powerful and all-knowing as his father could get hurt. There just was a certain unspoken confidence that his father would always be ok. If anything bad were to happen, he would take care of it- just like he always did. 

 

Except the man in front of Jeremy didn’t look much like his father at all. It takes him a moment to recognize him behind the swollen, beaten-in face and ripped suit. The sight frightens him on a level he can’t quite comprehend, as it turns out his father  _ isn’t  _ invincible. And for some reason his mind keeps flashing back to the time he grossly sobbed while watching his dead goldfish swirl down the toilet at age five. His father had rubbed his shoulders comfortingly,  _ “These things happen.” _ he had said,  _ “There’s nothing you can do.”   _

 

And suddenly for the first time in his life, Jeremy was scared that his father might die. And he cries. 

 

\----------

 

Approximately nine minutes and fifty-five seconds after Tavish is taken away by Pauling’s guard, Tavish ends up stuffing the now unconscious guard’s body into a unknown trainee’s locker. It’d been awhile since he had stuffed a body into an area that bodies were not supposed to be stuffed in, but he handled it well enough. 

 

He rounds the corner back towards the cell with Ludwig and Dell a few moments with keys in hand. “Took you long enough!” Ludwig smiles at him at the door swings open. “I almost thought you’d too old for this this.” 

 

“You’re one to talk.” Tavish punches his shoulder. “So what’s the plan Dell?” 

 

Dell scratches his head “Well, shit. I guess we just need to start off finding the main filing computer and start there. Then find everyone and get the hell out.” 

 

“Vague. I like it.” Tavish then paces around for a bit looking over his shoulder, “Do you think you two could handle it on your own?”

 

“What are you talking about?” Ludwig sneers. 

 

Tavish rubs his neck, “Well, we’re probably gonna’ leave this place for good right? And have a fresh start and all that, and I was thinking--” 

 

“Don’t tell me your thinking of saving that girl?” Dell asks plainly, and is met with silence as his answer.

 

Tavish looks at the floor, “I just think--” 

 

Ludwig interrupts him, “She tried to kill us and your thinking of  _ saving  _ her?!” 

 

“She’s just a kid!” Tavish yells at him. 

 

“Do you even know what kind of psychological manipulation goes on here?” Ludwig pushes him lightly, “She will  _ never _ recover from that. Pauling isn’t a little girl, she’s a living weapon and she’ll kill you without a blink of her eye.” 

 

Tavish stares at him, “And just how do you know that?” 

 

He stands his ground to Tavish. “Everything I have ever done is for sake of science and the expansion of curiosity. I will not apologize for that.” Dell side-eyes Ludwig as he continues, “While I may not have personally worked with her, I’ve worked with a multitude projects and I know what they do. This girl could choke the life out of a man before she hit puberty. And I know with complete certainty that if you try to help her, she will kill you- it’s what she’s been trained to do.” 

 

“So we just leave her then?!” Tavish gets frustrated, “We all get to start over, but she doesn’t even know she has the choice?” he turns to left, “Dell, you would leave her behind?!” 

 

Dell, who up to this point has been surprisingly quiet because of his conflicting logic and morals, is tongue tied, “Well, I mean-- Ludwig’s got a point but, it still ain’t right and I just--” he sighs and releases the tension in his shoulders, “If you go back for her, I won’t stop you. But you gotta’ know that I can’t help you on this one. I have to get to the files first.” 

 

Tavish huffs in place and nods and Dell puts his hand on Tavish’s shoulder before he takes off in the other direction, “But just know that I think your right. And your a better man than me.” he smiles, “Good luck, partner.” 

 

\----------------

 

“There, there.” Spy comforts his son, his voice much more strained than it usually is, “It’s alright. I’m alright.” 

 

Jeremy closes his eyes in his father’s embrace and it’s almost like he’s back home again. Except that his brain reminds him that his home is still burnt to the ground, and the slight stench of metal and blood on his father keeps him in the horrible moment. 

 

The rest of them awkwardly stand guard as Spy calms down his son. It takes a few moments of switching between low calming comforts and a shaky hand on his shoulder and every single one of them know that they don’t have time for this, and yet none of them speak up. Mikhal in particular sympathizes, remembering his time with his younger sisters, and just how hard it can be to calm down a child. He decides to be the realist, “We are running out of time.” 

 

Jane chimes in, not quite brave enough to break up the meeting on his own, “He’s got a point, ya’ know.”

 

He releases Jeremy from his hug to look at him better, “I need you to stay strong alright? Stay with Mr. Mundy and I and you’ll be alright.” 

 

Jeremy shakes his head wordlessly and wipes the tears from his eyes. “Ok.” Is all he says, his voice still cracking. 

 

Sniper then finally leaps into action, moving Pyro as he places Spy’s arm around his shoulder and lifts him higher to his feet. “Mikhal you said you know the way--”

 

They are then interrupted by a loud screeching noise through the overcome system, and the deep clearing of a throat. “Uh, can the the owner of the crashed campervan come to the front please.” the southern drawl of the voice over muffled gunshots obviously being Dell, “Er, rather just come to the filing room. Quickly. It should be two lefts and a right from where you stand. Thank you.” 

 

The click of the overcome mic turning off ques everyone's stares, Jane speaks his mind, “Awfully bold of Dell to let the enemy know where he is.” 

 

“The only reason he would do that,” Spy coughs, “-is if they’ve already been caught.” 

 

\----------------

  
  


“Just give the system a few more moments!” Dell yells back at Ludwig as he continues to type furiously into the large computer filing system.

 

“I wasn’t made for field work you know!” Ludwig shouts back. He braces his back against the thick metal door, occasionally checking out and shooting randomly into the crowd of guards and missing all of them. 

 

Dell curses, typing through errors, “Christ Doc’, you ever learn how to shoot?!” 

 

“No!” he shouts back, plugging one of his ears as he fires into the crowd again.

 

Dell ducks his head down reflexively, watching as slowly but surely as the computer system he works on starts corrupting itself. His plan was working. 

 

He smiles, “Dell Conagher, you handsome devil of a genius. We really did it.” And just like that the computer makes one last mechanical whirl and shuts down. Dell feels the relief wash over him. If nothing else, all digital files on every single operative in the Agency files was gone. All that was left was burning the room they were in and leaving, and they would all be free. 

 

The computer in front of them blinks back on trying to reboot, but Dell expects it. The system was made for security cameras first after all, if it wasn’t going to be used for filing purposes, it was going to boot back to its original state.  What he doesn’t expect is what he finds in the small square showing outside the Boss’s office. 

 

It’s blurry, but its obviously Tavish with his arms up and Pauling all alone pointing her pistol at him. He watches for a moment as they talk, and Tavish seems to be losing, just like Ludwig said he would. Dell scrambles for the mic, fumbling with his fingers to try and get the thing working so he can give the man a distraction- give him anything before-- 

 

Suddenly, Dell watches the silent, colorless video of Pauling pulling her trigger and Tavish crumpling to the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a long one huh!!!
> 
> This one took a hot sec to come out! and truthfully so will the next one!!! but thank you to everyone that has stuck with me for over the year (jfc) that this fic has been going on! we're coming to the end!!!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!!! More chapters to come!
> 
>  
> 
> Consider checking out my art or sending me a message!  
> DA - vaporwave-skeletor  
> Tumblr - longliveteufort


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